Nori Mahdi wanders in Geneva and its surroundings, here or elsewhere, now, never, or always.

Along his strolls, he brings back objects, snapshots, impressions, dreams—a Prévert-style inventory, a bargain market—that he assembles, transforms, and rebuilds. An art beneath the cobblestones, a freshness of spirit and thoughts that he shares with us, privileged spectators.

Nori Mahdi reminds us that beyond the gaze, behind the bars of uniform thinking, beyond ready-made ideas and the hammering or dictation of a uniform reality, there lies a world of poetry waiting to be rediscovered.

Thanks to Nori Mahdi for offering us this world, always hidden within each of us, fortunately, and for allowing us to contemplate the shadows and mirages of this world, which all too often cloud our thoughts.

Let the moon be reassured, let the hats and clarinets relax, let the shells and bread be appeased—

Thanks to Nori Mahdi, we perceive a truth that often eludes us, freedom that must be ours.

For all these reasons and many more, thank you, dear Nori.

Text by Éric Tistounet.