My First Nobel Prize: Bottom, crystallizes TDK's passion for Tango, Kloon, Baroque, and Renaissance Hermeticism. A transadaptation of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, in the sense of a Picasso translation of a Velázquez painting containing his translations of fragments of poetry by the flamboyant John Wilmot, aka the 2nd Earl of Rochester, this work grapples with magic and dance in their political, even ecological, dimensions, as well as with questions of animality and identity. It addresses desire in all its dimensions; and from one trompe-l'œil to another, raises many questions: "What is theatre?", "What is literature?"—"Who's there?", as the opening of Hamlet asserts—"Why do we stop speaking to sing?" and "What holy madness bites us with its tarantula and thus compels us to dance?" The first part of a trilogy that revisits The Tempest, Twelfth Night, and the Sonnets, it is at once a savagery that winks at Rimbaud—among others—a fluidity that seeks to indulge the pens of Shakespeare and Rochester in French with a tender and respectful irreverence, and a musicality that will ceaselessly drum out a defiant cry.