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I dream of having a small gallery in Paris. Not about a noisy fashionable space, but about a quiet place on a quiet street where floorboards creak and it smells of old books and coffee. I want young artists to exhibit there, whom no one knows, but whose work makes one's heart ache. I want to create a space where people can come in just like that, without a purpose, sit on a velvet sofa and silently look at the paintings. Maybe someone will find there the answer to the question that has been tormenting him for years. Maybe someone will just take a break from the hustle and bustle. My dream is not about fame or money. It's about leaving behind a place where a person feels understood. Even if it's just one person. That's enough