“My biography begins, as every biography should, in my childhood. An observer of insects and small creatures for many years, reading became my passion for a time, accompanied by a whole array of toys that allowed me to realize and physically express my ideas. My observations quickly turned into creations, and I would spend hours giving form and context to the words I read. I wasn't so different from many children my age, just as I am aware that I am not so different from many adults today. I wanted to be a scientist and set out to become one—I dedicated my studies to it, at least, and still dedicate my profession to it today—all the while knowing that I would remain creative. I wasn't bad at it, strictly speaking, but I quickly realized, beyond a certain point, that my past abilities disappeared as those of others became evident. I then had to multiply efforts that I knew, deep down, were not selfless, but futile.” I would have been better off putting my considerable aptitude and love of literature to good use, but the difficulty itself was motivating in that it brought me back to the battles of nature and men that had always fascinated me. This paradox prevented me from developing any kind of passion, as would have been the case for so many others; the unnatural struggle of my mind was the source of its captivity. Today, an engineer, tennis player, and sportsman reformed by the force of work, a great believer in human interaction over a good drink, but above all an unacknowledged literary enthusiast, writing is for me the logical continuation of a short life spent reading books and magazines aimed at introducing me to the understanding of biology and science, as well as a fascination with war stories, the ultimate consecration of a dreamy mind that has remained forever childlike.