Thank You, Aldo

You were my first master without knowing it, or perhaps without wanting to be. You did not give lessons; you held out a pencil, and we followed the line.

With you, I discovered that a set can become a ship, "Le Maelström", that a bar can become a whale, that a room can become a seabed... if possible neo-psychedelic. All of it came from your inner world, with no computer and no AI, from that quiet humility that made others shine before you.

Even before the Mirano, your sets were already there: from Les Gémeaux to the stage of Le Canotier, the hand-drawn posters, that lettering nobody else knew how to make sing. You moved through all those lives, leaving images on the walls each time.

Then came the Mirano. The fountain, the fashion-show catwalks, the concert stages, the themed nights that changed planet every week. You invented worlds nobody believed possible, and they were standing that very evening, ready at 21:59, with the smell of fresh paint and the first wisps of smoke rising.

Beside you I learned what no school would have taught me: that an idea is worth nothing until it is built, that you never give up, and that true luxury is making people dream who will never know your name. Much of what this site tells happened in spaces that came out of your head, and part of what I still do today comes from there, comes from you.

You did not work alone, and you would not have wanted to: Paul and Marco gave you the ground, you gave them images. To me, you gave a craft, and a way of looking at the night.

Thank you, Aldo. Out there in the sun, I hope the pencils never wear down.