I started magic at 9. A kid, dazzled, in a small shop in the Ardèche. I wasn't looking for glory or money. Just wonder.

Then they taught me that passion had to be profitable.

I became Tony Montero. They applauded me between the cheese course and dessert for tricks anyone could have done in my place. Driving home, I felt empty. Interchangeable. Something inside me was dying in silence.

And faced with a world spinning out of control — consuming everything, digesting everything, forgetting everything — magic didn't resist either. Tricks sold as products, automatic, no sleight of hand required. A supermarket of illusion where the gesture no longer matters. Where the effect has killed the presence.

I refused the stages they imposed on me. The restaurants. The weddings. The social media.

At 24, I stopped everything. Not out of bitterness. Out of exhaustion. Exhaustion from wearing that suffocating mask.

For years, I traded my deck of cards for radical commitments, fighting to protect my ideals. And one day, I opened it again. On a Sea Shepherd vessel. No table. No spotlight. Just the raw encounter with the unexpected.

And I liked it.

I relearned how to spend entire nights on a single coin move. Without justifying myself. Without guilt. In a world that demands you monetize every hour, every talent, every passion, choosing the gratuitous gesture is almost a subversive act.

Those hours cannot be monetized. That's exactly why I defend them.

I want to relearn slowness. The slowness of gesture is my first political act. Free sharing, the gesture that cannot be monetized — that is my resistance.

But magic doesn't stop with me. It must travel. Leave a crack. I want to place it in people's hands. So that whoever witnesses it leaves with something they can no longer ignore.

I no longer want my art to make you forget the world. I want it to make the world unbearable to look at — and too beautiful to abandon.

This manifesto is not an arrival. It is a new departure into the unknown. Leaving behind the many colors of the chameleon to choose just one; the one that will stop hiding me and bring me into the light.

So here is my new color. I leave behind the comfort of tricks that work, the safety of contracts I know. And I will discover fear; the fear of hurting, the fear of displeasing, the fear of standing naked.

I don't yet know exactly what Teroan will become, or how. But I know what it refuses to be.

If you're reading this, it's because you looked for me. Because someone told you about me.

That's enough. That's exactly how it should be.