Like nocturnal moths, we soar free on sparkling wings of light thoughts. Like the yearnings of lovers who, trying to hide their most intimate and worldly passions, get confused between futile words. Our sinuous wings envelop the fingers of burning spirits, anticipating the fatuous melt before being touched. We are rings born in plastic fiber, but transformed by fusion in silver and brass. Conceived by the imagination of a little entomologist, attracted by the charm of metamorphosis, we awaken the childish excitement of collecting butterflies and insects.

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