Kilometre World Caravan Tour

1

16.01

Melbourne

2

06.02

Tbilisi

3

06.03

Los Angeles

4

03.04

Addis Ababa

5

01.05

Brussels

6

05.06

Palma

Brussels

Diane Hennebert

Jean Paul Lespagnard

Kendell Geers & Cendrine Du Welz

Sophie Caree

France Hankart

Beatriz Vilchez Silva

Zephir

We at Kilometre Paris would like to present our muse: Zephir. A wanderer between worlds, a seeker of stories, a creator forever chasing the echoes of his childhood mind. He does not move in straight lines, he drifts, he dances, he dives headfirst into the unknown. Music, film, words, images, whatever medium will let him capture the magic, whatever form will let him make sense of the world’s shadows. His curiosity is not passive; it is hungry, restless, insatiable.

For Zephir, work and dreams are one and the same. He does not separate what he loves from what he does, he simply follows the thread of what compels him. He is no expert, nor does he care to be. Mastery is static. He prefers movement, experimentation, the thrill of stepping into something new. His process is one of release, creating, sharing, setting his work free to live beyond him. That is how he grows. That is how he levels up.

And now, the next chapter, X2, the album waiting to take shape, to find its voice, to become. But Zephir is not only a musician. He is an observer, a collector of fleeting moments, a storyteller who sees the world’s nightmares and reconfigures them, shifting their angles until new truths emerge. Documentaries, folklore, forgotten myths, these are his fuel. He does not seek escape; he seeks perspective.

And then, Belgium. To be Belgian today? Perhaps it is to be among the privileged, to stand on a foundation of stability in an unstable world. But Zephir is never fully here or there. His favorite places exist in moods, in atmospheres, in fleeting moments that become stories.

A snowy forest, kissed by the sun, waiting for a fable to unfold.

A small apartment in Brussels, the scent of cake in the air, new songs spinning into existence.

A countryside house, laughter spilling across a wooden table, the quiet recognition that to be loved is to be lucky.

1. How would you describe yourself?
I would say that I’m someone who’s running behind his child mind. I’m really curious in a way, so that’s why I want to try everything and do a lot of different stuff, music, directing videos, traveling... Attracted by others’ stories and dreams who draw the world with nuances and magic. I’m looking to explore life in a creative way.

2. Are you living your dream or just working a job?
Would say both. Thanks to my dreams being my jobs. I’m so lucky to be confident enough to do what I want to do. I never be an expert because my focus is dancing around my perseverance but I’m not afraid to explore and the only way for me to keep going, practice, build, and level up is to release my works, show them, let them live and learn.

3. What was the last project on which you worked, and what will your next project be?
My next album X2 :))

4. Aside from your hobbies, what are you passionate about?
As I said before, “just” a little story can make me dream. I’m really working to keep a child soul and sensibility and trying to see nightmares of the world in different angles. Best I can. So documentary features definitely are my things, as folklore and tales.

5. What do you think it means to be Belgian nowadays?
To be among the privileged of this world?

6. Where is your favourite place in the world, and why? Please be as specific, or as vague, as you like.
Option 1: Could be somewhere in the quiet and the majesty of a snowy forest lit by the sun to be part of a tale.
Option 2: In my flat in Brussels during autumn, cooking cakes and singing new songs to be happy by myself.
Option 3: A little house in a sunny countryside with a bunch of friends playing games to understand how lucky I am to be loved.

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France Hankart

We at Kilometre Paris would like to present our muse: France.

There are women who wear many hats. France wears wigs, quite literally. One night, she’s in Chantilly, dressed head-to-toe in ‘80s Olivia Newton John glam, peroxide-blonde perruque, leg warmers, clope au bec, Vanity 6 blasting through the speakers of a Ferrari F40 -1989 rallye car. The next morning? She’s handing out leftovers to a stranger in the street, offering shelter to a woman in distress. That’s not a contradiction, it’s her nature. A shape-shifter with a heart that never changes.

Born on the 14th of July (a date dripping in irony), she is Belgian, not French, and proud of it. And prouder still of her quarter Congolese heritage, passed down from her grandmother, who always told her: “You’ve got something in your blood. That’s why people love you.” And people do. She draws others in like a magnet, strangers, misfits, power couples, waiters, billionaires. She hosts dinners where guests arrive with nothing in common and leave bonded by laughter and red wine. She is a connector, a federator, a soul that makes others feel at home, even when they’re not sure where home is.

She hates pretense but loves beauty. Everything in her home has a story: the vase she found on a forgotten island, the painting that reminds her of someone lost, even the pillowcases. Objects are not decorations. They are anchors. Her life is full of objects that speak, and stories that refuse to sit quietly.

Her past? Well, it’s a collection of lives. She once left a café terrace conversation and, within weeks, was living in London, managing a string of pâtisserie salons. Then came the Antilles, where she followed love (as she often does), stayed two years, helped rebuild an island ravaged by Hurricane Irma. She doesn't tiptoe into life, she dives in. Diesel engine, as she says, slow to start, unstoppable once in motion.

Today, she’s working on two projects. One, a hotel reborn from disaster. The other, a dance school, a place not for ballerinas in leotards, but for release, for movement, for joy. She’s building it not for profit, not for prestige, but because in a world made of concrete and grey skies, she still believes in joy.

France is a mother, not just to her son, but to her wide, chosen family. She is fiercely loyal, hilariously self-aware, chronically disorganized in a way that somehow works. Her spontaneity is never reckless; it’s precise in its madness. She hates choosing because choosing means giving something up. She prefers to improvise.

She is passionate. About dancing until sunrise. About perruques and disguises. About people. She talks with the same sincerity to a woman in need as she does with Lionel Richie at a private dinner. Her life plays out somewhere between a soup kitchen and a Tom Ford runway. Between a smoky rally car and a candlelit living room in Brussels.

Her favorite place in the world? It’s not a destination. It’s anywhere she can recreate her cocon, her home. Brussels, London, Sicily, Saint-Barthélemy, it doesn’t matter. If she can bring her music, her stories, her objects with soul, it becomes her haven.

France does not live one life. She collects them. Tries them on like wigs. Shakes them out, rewrites them. And when she laughs, and she laughs a lot, you realize: she’s not trying to be someone. She’s simply refusing to be less than everything she is.

And that, for us at Kilometre Paris, is the very definition of a muse.

Kendell Geers & Cendrine

We at Kilometre Paris would like to present our muses: Kendell Geers & Cendrine du Welz. There are artists, and then there are forces of nature, Kendell Geers is the latter. A man who does not whisper but shouts, who does not decorate but detonates. His work is a battleground where history is dragged, kicking and screaming, into confrontation with the present. Born into the brutality of apartheid-era South Africa, Geers became an artist because language alone was insufficient. He needed provocation, rupture, impact. He needed to twist the familiar into something sharp, dangerous, impossible to ignore.

He renounced his birth name at fifteen, an act of severance, a refusal to inherit a world he did not wish to belong to. He exiled himself, crossing borders both literal and artistic, forging an identity in defiance of expectation. A white South African who feels neither at home in the country he left behind nor entirely claimed by the places he has since inhabited. He exists between, between cultures, between violence and beauty, between reverence and rebellion.

His art is a manifesto. Broken beer bottles spell out self-portraits, barbed wire coils like a crown of thorns, neon signs flash words that don’t comfort but confront. He sells crucifixes like a man testing the limits of sacrilege, pushing, always pushing, to see where the boundary of offense might finally crack. But this is not blasphemy for the sake of spectacle. His work interrogates power, colonialism, the hypocrisy of institutions. It is both for and against. Political, but never correct. In dinner conversations, he does not smooth edges, he sharpens them. He elevates debate or burns it to the ground, but he never lets it remain idle.

Beside him, Cendrine du Welz. The steady hand, the quiet force. Not merely a witness to his storms, but the one who holds steady while they rage. She has been at his side for years, not just supporting but enduring, sustaining. It takes a particular kind of strength to stand beside an artist like Geers, to be the counterweight to his volatility, the grounding force in his endless provocation. Together, they are a study in contrast: fire and stone, chaos and poise, the radical and the resolute.

And then, there is the shirt. Hope H. A Kilometre Paris collaboration, embroidered with the view from Nelson Mandela’s prison cell, a sight carved into decades of longing, a landscape turned into both captivity and vision. A horizon that meant oppression but also endurance. It is a piece stitched with history, with defiance, with the weight of seeing and surviving.

And now, the next explosion: *Everything is True, Nothing is Permitted*. An exhibition that does not bow, does not bend, does not soothe. It is a battleground of images and ideas, an insurrection against complacency. Hosted at Brutus in Rotterdam, this project in collaboration with A/Political brings together artists who refuse to be silenced, who have suffered for their art, their gender, their identity, and have transmuted that suffering into radical, unyielding creation. It is a space where truth is a weapon and art is the battlefield.

Geers, ever the provocateur, demands a reckoning: What is the function of art when flesh becomes data, when borders are drawn at the edge of skin? The answer is neither comfortable nor easy. But that is exactly why it must be asked.

We at Kilometre Paris do not seek safe muses. We seek those who disrupt, who disassemble, who refuse to be anything less than entirely, utterly themselves. Kendell Geers is that, and more. A punk, a trickster, a provocateur. An artist who does not invite admiration but demands reckoning. A man whose work does not sit in a room, it sets the room on fire.

Beatriz Vilchez Silva

We at Kilometre Paris would like to present our muse: Beatriz Vilchez Silva. A seeker of sound, a cartographer of rhythm, a weaver of unseen connections. Music is not just something she listens to; it is something she deciphers, something she feels in frequencies beyond the audible. From Mozart to the pulse of Detroit techno, her journey has never been linear, it spirals, it unfolds, it deepens. She does not chase trends. She listens for truth, for the moments when sound becomes something more, a portal, a pulse, a conversation with the infinite.

But Beatriz is not just a collector of sound. She is an architect of experience. BangdaBoom, her electronic soirées in Brussels, is not just a party, it is a meeting place, a sanctuary for those who understand that music is not decoration, but communion. Here, age dissolves, barriers fade, and the motherbeat reigns supreme. It is a space carved out of the city’s hum, where kindred spirits gather not just to dance, but to listen, to each other, to the moment, to something wordless yet undeniable.

Her journey is one of reinvention, of careful curation, of refusing to take the obvious path. A decade in brand and business strategy, building something of her own while raising three sons, an act of balance, of will, of relentless forward motion. Closing a company. Starting again. Not chasing money, but meaning. Selecting work that fuels, not drains. And now, an MBA for Design Leaders, a grant opening doors she had not yet imagined, a new understanding that design is not just form, but philosophy, a way of shaping not just objects, but experiences, businesses, futures.

And then, there is place. A city, Brussels, more layered than it seems, where cultural diversity is not a phrase but a way of being. A life between worlds, between languages, between identities. And beyond the city, there is retreat, the cabins in the Southern Alps, where silence is a language of its own, where the world sheds its noise, where the closest road is a 15-minute walk and, in winter, the only way in is with snowshoes. Here, the pace shifts. Here, time stretches. Here, she is reminded that another way of living is not just possible, but necessary.

Beatriz does not just exist within the world, she shapes it. Through sound. Through space. Through the quiet insistence that life is too short, and people too incredible, to be experienced at a surface level.

1. How would you describe yourself?
I would describe myself as a late bloomer and a curious soul with a deep love for music. My musical journey started early with Mozart and The Beatles, and has led me through various genres to find beauty from classical and jazz to underground Detroit techno. I tend to be discerning about what I listen to – valuing authenticity and soul over commercial appeal.

I can be stubborn at times, and I'll admit I'm not always the most organized person. I've been told I'm a bit like a Pandora's box – there are always new layers to discover. I guess that ties into my curiosity and tendency to dig deeper into things that interest me.

What matters to me is genuineness – in music, in experiences, in life. I prefer to do things authentically rather than following the obvious path.

2. Are you living your dream or just working a job?
I'd say I'm crafting something that goes beyond both. After almost a decade of running my own consultancy practice in brand and business strategy, I've found a balance that feels right. The journey hasn't been easy – starting my business while raising three sons (including a newborn), facing tough decisions like closing my company and starting over as an independent consultant. But I have no regrets today.

I've managed to create a professional life that aligns with my values, carefully selecting clients and collaborators who inspire me. More than chasing money, I've prioritized having time for what matters: family, friends, learning, playing music (piano and drums), DJing and organizing regular parties in Brussels, and my latest obsession – tennis.

While I can be hard on myself sometimes, I believe I've built something meaningful – a life where work and passion complement each other rather than compete. It's not just a job, and maybe it's not the traditional idea of a "dream," but it's an authentic expression of who I am and what I value.

3. What was the last project on which you worked, and what will your next project be?
My current projects reflect both my professional growth and personal passions. I'm in the midst of completing an MBA for Design Leaders in London, which has been truly transformative. Beyond the academic aspect, I'm discovering the profound impact of design as a mindset in business environments, and I'm building meaningful connections with remarkable individuals who are shaping my perspective. Being awarded a grant for this program has opened doors I hadn't imagined.

Parallel to this, I'm nurturing BangdaBoom, the electronic music soirées in Brussels I have created with two good friends. This isn't just another party series – it's evolving into a cherished meeting point for people who share a deep love for music. We're creating an intimate space where age doesn't matter, where people can connect through the universal language of the motherbeat. It's about fostering a community of kindred spirits who come together not just to dance, but to share moments and create connections through music.4. Aside from your hobbies, what are you passionate about?
I am driven by people and anything creating meaningful connections between people. I believe anything can spark these connections – whether it's art, sharing a story, enjoying a meal together, or even technology. Life is short and people are way too incredible and interesting to miss.

5. What do you think it means to be Belgian nowadays?
As an "adopted" Belgian, born in Spain and raised in a Spanish-Italian environment before spending time in Paris, I can especially appreciate what it means to be a Bruxellois today. For me, it's about embracing an open, bon vivant way of life in a city that's far more cosmopolitan than most people realize. What I've found here is a unique mix of joie de vivre and cultural diversity, along with a deeply ingrained culture of compromise – something that feels particularly valuable in today's world.

6. Where is your favourite place in the world, and why? Please be as specific, or as vague, as you like.
My favorite place in the world is our cabins in the Southern Alps (Between Nice and the Piemonte), far from the madding crowd. While I appreciate that Brussels offers easy access to nature with its forests, there's something truly special about our place. Up there, surrounded by pristine wilderness (no road closer than a 15’ walk, and in the winter you need rackets to go when it snows), I get a profound sense that another world is possible. It helps me focus on what's really important.

JEAN-PAUL LESPAGNARD

We at Kilometre Paris would like to present our muse: Jean-Paul Lespagnard. A provocateur of form, a conductor of contradictions, a designer who does not merely create, he disrupts, reimagines, electrifies. His work is not just about aesthetics; it is a manifesto, a declaration that design should be fearless, boundless, and unapologetically bold. He does not follow trends; he bends them into something new, something raw, something unmistakably his own.

For Jean-Paul, design is not a profession, it is a way of seeing. It is a passport, a language, a form of resistance. He does not present collections; he orchestrates Escales, immersive journeys where fashion is not worn but experienced. Hydra, Paris, Brussels, each destination a chapter, each presentation a story unfolding beyond the runway, into the streets, onto the walls, into the hands of those willing to feel, to engage, to step into his world. And next? Japan, the World Expo, a collaboration with a singer, a brand, a concept still taking shape in the fire of his imagination. He does not move in straight lines. He leaps, he collides, he transforms.

But Jean-Paul is not just a designer, he is an architect of identity. He weaves together multicultural influences, stitching self-expression into every seam. He builds communities as much as collections, spaces where tradition and rebellion stand shoulder to shoulder, where art, craft, and design do not compete, they collaborate, converse, evolve.

And at the heart of it all, Belgium. A country of juxtapositions, where surrealism is a state of mind, where diversity is not a concept but a way of life. He thrives in this in-between space, balancing heritage with reinvention, finding new ways to showcase what is old and new at once.

And when the need for chaos, color, and creation calls, there is Mexico City, a city that hums with the energy of artists, a place where every wall tells a story, every sound is an invitation, every encounter a spark. And always, there is humor, the irreverence of Belgian wit woven into the fabric of his work. A bronze waffle, an object sculpted for a lunar coffee table, absurd and sublime at once. A playful nod, a signature, a reminder that design should never take itself too seriously.

1. I’m a designer and creative director. I’m bold and deeply passionate about blending art, craft and design. I thrive on challenging conventions, celebrating individuality, and finding joy in imaginative storytelling.

2. I’m absolutely living the way I see things. For me, design isn’t just work, it’s a way of expressing ideas, connecting with others, and pushing the boundaries of what’s possible.

3. My last project were my 3 last Escales, a new way of presenting my collections through travels. I did one in Hydra (Greece) last summer, in Paris last September and in Brussels end 2024. My next project for the beginning of 2025 involve innovative partnerships and developing design concepts with a brand, another one with a singer, and a showcase in Japan at the occasion of the world expo.

4. Beyond my hobbies, I’m deeply passionate about empowering self-expression, fostering community, and bringing multicultural influences together in my work to inspire others.

5. Being Belgian today means embracing diversity, balancing a rich cross cultural heritage with modernity, and thriving in a creative space that bridges tradition and showcasing in innovatives ways.

6. One of my favorite places in the world is Mexico City. Its vibrant energy, artistic spirit, and sense of community make it a constant source of inspiration for me.

Sophie Carrée

We at Kilometre Paris would like to present our muse: Sophie Carrée. A connector of worlds, a curator of conversations, a woman whose currency is stories. She moves through life as if it were a grand salon, weaving introductions with instinctive precision, sensing the invisible threads that link one soul to another. To meet Sophie is to be drawn into a constellation of voices, ideas, and unexpected encounters, because she does not simply know people, she understands them.

For Sophie, work is not just work; it is second nature, a rhythm as natural as breath. She does not sit behind a desk; she orchestrates, a dialogue, a discovery, a spark of curiosity ignited. Her podcast, *La Rencontre*, is not merely a series of recorded interviews; it is an invitation, a portal into the minds of creators, thinkers, and artists shaping the world. In December, she sat across from Max Modesti and Hervé Perdriolle, peeling back the layers of their gallery, and then from the founders of Ceramic Brussels, tracing the fine balance between material and vision. And now, January calls, Ceramic Brussels returns, and with it, another season of voices waiting to be heard, another opportunity to bring people together around something tangible, something crafted by hand.

But Sophie is not only a curator of art, she is a curator of words, ideas, and perspective. Books have been her lifelong passion, a universe she can enter at will. Art is another, a space where her curiosity finds form. And then, there is Belgium, this small, surreal land she now calls home. A country that thrives on contradiction, absurdity, and brilliance per square meter, where talent spills across disciplines and humor is as essential as air.

And when she needs to step away from it all, she disappears to a tiny island in Portugal. No cars. No cycling. Just a path, the whisper of the tides, and a house where time slows down. She wakes and sleeps with the rhythm of the sea, letting the sunset write a different story across the sky each evening.

How would you describe yourself?

I’m a people’s person. I love to meet new people and introduce people to others. I love to learn and discover new things.

Are you living your dream or just working a job?

I cannot see myself doing anything else than what I do. It is second nature to me. I am lucky to do what I do as it gave me the opportunity to meet incredible people.

What was the last project on which you worked, and what will your next project be?

One of my last projects last December was to record two new episodes for my podcast named *La Rencontre* with Max Modesti and Hervé Perdriolle from Modesti Perdriolle Galerie as well as the two founders of Ceramic Brussels. My next project in January will be to prepare the next edition of Ceramic Brussels, which I am very excited about.

Aside from your hobbies, what are you passionate about?

Reading has always been a passion of mine since I was little. Art is another area I am very interested in.

What do you think it means to be Belgian nowadays?

I have been living in Belgium for over 20 years, so I guess I became one of them. I love the Belgian sometimes absurd and surreal way of thinking. I am fascinated such a small country has so many talents per meter square in art, music, fashion and other.

Where is your favorite place in the world, and why? Please be as specific, or as vague, as you like.

Right now, my favorite place on earth is a tiny island in Portugal where there is no cars and no cycling, only a small pedestrian path with a small house on the beach. It is a very peaceful place where I go to clear my mind. I get up and go to sleep with the tides and a different sunset view daily.

Diane Hennebert

We at Kilometre Paris would like to present our muse: Diane. A philosopher in motion, a woman who does not simply think but acts, who believes that knowledge without creation is incomplete. For her, ideas must breathe, evolve, take form in the world. Education, culture, nature, heritage, she does not choose between them. She builds bridges, shapes spaces, redefines the possible.

She is the founder of Out of the Box, a school unlike any other, a sanctuary for young minds who do not fit into the conventional mold. A decade in, it stands as a testament to her belief that education should liberate, not confine. And beyond the classroom, her touch reshapes entire cities, she has led the restoration of some of Brussels’ most iconic monuments, including the Atomium, the Villa Empain, and now, her latest endeavor: the Chinese Pavilion, a forgotten jewel she is determined to bring back to life by 2028.

People say she works a lot. She disagrees. For Diane, work is only work when it lacks joy. And she refuses to move without joy.

What drives her? Life itself, in all its unexpected, infinite variations. The thrill of discovery, the pulse of the unknown, the way difference can be the most powerful source of inspiration. She is drawn to those who see the world through a different lens, who challenge, who ignite something new.

And then, there is Africa. The land of her birth. The place where she hopes to one day return, not just to visit, but to stay, to belong, to finish the journey where it all began.

A quote by Robert Filliou follows her like a guiding star: "Art is what makes life more interesting than art."

And that is Diane, Not just an observer of beauty, but a creator of it. Not just a thinker, but a force.

Galila Brazilai Hollander

Charlie Gormitte

Lionel Jadot

Isabelle Arradon

Nathalie Guiot

We at Kilometre Paris would like to present our muse: Nathalie Guiot.

Some people walk through the world. Others remake it, thread by thread, fiber by fiber, thought by thought. Nathalie Guiot does not merely observe; she transforms, reconfigures, reimagines. She is a journalist, an editor, a curator, a collector, a bridge between creation and consequence, between art and ecology, between innovation and timeless craft. She has lived many lives within one, and still, she is not finished.

Independence is not just a state of being for her, it is an insurgency. She moves fluidly between disciplines, between places, between ideas, driven by an insatiable curiosity that refuses containment. For a decade, she shaped the Fondation Thalie, a space that was more than a gallery, it was a living, breathing entity, a ground for collision, for conversation, for questioning the way art, nature, and humanity intersect. From Brussels to Arles, she cultivated an ecosystem where artists, thinkers, and audiences met not just to see but to engage, challenge, and expand.

But evolution is her only constant. Today, her focus is ALEOR, a nomadic gallery, a manifesto, a movement. Born from the exhibition Regenerative Futures, ALEOR is a new frontier, a space where materials are not merely sourced, but grown, regenerated, reborn. Algae, mycelium, insect leather, biopolymers, this is the language of tomorrow, the antidote to a world suffocating under its own excess.

More than an exhibition space, ALEOR is an intervention. It is a call to fashion, architecture, and luxury, not just to admire but to rethink, redesign, rebuild. Through exhibitions, consulting, publishing, and the production of exclusive and limited-edition biodesign pieces, ALEOR aims not to decorate the world, but to reengineer it, to create an alternative to fossil-based materials, to depletion, to destruction.

But Nathalie is more than her work. She is movement, discovery, the thrill of encountering something unexpected and allowing it to reshape her. Cinema, literature, poetry. A soul drawn to India, not as an escape but as a second skin, Kochi, Rajasthan, the Himalayas, places where spirituality hums through the streets, where artisans still shape history with their hands, where simplicity carries the weight of centuries. She does not just admire, she immerses, absorbs, becomes.

And then, there is her poetry. A secret language, a quiet force. Words written in the stillness of night, guided by something unseen, something urgent. Her book, Le premier jour de l’étincelle, was born in confinement, in solitude, but its voice stretches beyond, toward connection, toward the spiritual, the elemental, the ineffable.

We at Kilometre Paris do not seek muses who merely create. We seek those who challenge, who dismantle, who insist on a world that is not just different, but better. Nathalie Guiot is one of them. A bridge between art and activism, between intellect and instinct, between tradition and the radical unknown. She does not just tell stories, she writes the blueprint for what comes next.

Isabelle Arradon

We at Kilometre Paris would like to present our muse: Isabelle Arradon. There are those who watch, and those who act. Isabelle Arradon has never belonged to the former. Her life is not just a profession, it is a declaration, a ceaseless effort to bridge the fractures of a chaotic world, to connect the threads between war and peace, despair and hope, urgency and foresight. She operates in the space between conflict and its prevention, deciphering the unseen patterns of unrest before they erupt, listening to the whispers of history before they become headlines.

For nearly twenty-five years, she has stood at the threshold of crises, first with Amnesty International, now with the International Crisis Group. It is more than work, it is identity. To be immersed in human rights, to dedicate oneself to preventing catastrophe before it arrives, is to live with a kind of paradox: forever looking forward while carrying the weight of the past. Wars, displacements, humanitarian crises, these are not abstract concepts to her but lived realities, names, faces, moments etched into memory.

Her most recent focus? The Democratic Republic of Congo, a land where history cycles back on itself with devastating precision, where entire populations vanish into the tides of violence and displacement. Through CrisisWatch, she dissects the present to warn of the future, an early alarm sounding against the deafening silence of global inaction. And next? On The Horizon, a project pulling back the veil on conflicts yet to fully surface, a necessary tool for those willing to listen before it is too late.

But beyond the urgency of geopolitics and diplomacy, there is another Isabelle. One who seeks balance not just in the world but within herself. Yoga at dawn, tennis on the weekend, a novel read cover to cover in a rare stolen moment. There is the mother who watches her daughter step into a world that feels both familiar and foreign, the traveler who has left parts of her soul in Indonesia, its islands, its people, its layered, intoxicating complexity. There is the sailor who understands that sometimes, to navigate, you must first surrender to the wind.

And then there is Belle-Île-en-Mer, that hidden fragment of Brittany where time slows and memory stretches across generations. A place that feels like a promise, the past preserved, the future waiting, the present moment held gently in the palm of her hand.

We at Kilometre Paris do not seek muses who merely exist within the world. We seek those who shape it, who challenge it, who insist that it can be something better. Isabelle Arradon is one of them. A woman who carries the weight of crisis with grace, who translates chaos into action, who understands that peace is not something found but something built, one decision at a time.

Lionel Jadot

We at Kilometre Paris would like to present our muse: Lionel Jadot. A renegade of form, a sculptor of the unexpected, a man who sees not what is but what could be. He does not simply design, he reclaims, repurposes, reinvents. A chandelier of fur coats, objects reborn where others see only waste. He does not follow blueprints; he bends them, breaks them, turns them inside out until they breathe with something wild, something raw, something alive.

To call him a designer would be a disservice. Lionel is cinema made tangible. Blade Runner meets Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, the neon haze of the future colliding with the reckless extravagance of the past. He does not chase beauty in the traditional sense. Sometimes what he creates is jarring, sometimes it’s on the verge of chaos, but it is never, ever indifferent. His work defies definition, at times closer to an art installation than an interior, a cinematic set rather than a space meant to be lived in. Every object, every material, every element he salvages carries a story, and he stitches them together like a mad alchemist, creating environments that feel both post-apocalyptic and deeply human.

And then, there is the road. The open sky, the untamed landscapes, the hum of the engine beneath him. He is not a man who stays still. Right now, he is somewhere deep in the dust and silence of the TET, tracing 8,000 kilometers through Spain and Portugal, 80% off-road, under the open sky, the asphalt long forgotten behind him. 6,000 kilometers down, still moving. Still searching. Still outside. Because Lionel is a collector, not of objects, but of experiences, places, stories.

He once extended an invitation: viens faire une résidence avec ton équipe. Because Lionel does not just create alone, he builds spaces for others to dream alongside him. He is the mastermind behind Zaventem Ateliers, a 65,000-square-foot creative hive near Brussels, where over 25 designer-producers, woodworkers, metal sculptors, textile artists, and visionaries of all kinds, gather to push the limits of craft. His projects are never just about architecture; they are ecosystems, collectives of energy and ideas, where nothing is mass-produced, and everything is born from reinvention.

A food court, where design is as experimental as the flavors. JAM Hotels, where upcycling is not a gimmick but a philosophy, each room furnished with wood salvaged from wildfires, headboards crafted from recycled shoe soles, and walls stitched together from discarded textiles. The Mix, a Brutalist landmark transformed into a design-forward refuge, furnished by over 50 artisans under his direction. A radical vision of hospitality, where art, design, and sustainability converge, created in collaboration with over 40 local designers, redefining what a hotel can be.

He is not careful. He is not measured. He takes the ball and runs with it. He does not ask for permission. He does not wait for approval. He moves, he builds, he burns through convention like gasoline. And what remains in his wake? A world where nothing is wasted, where beauty is found in the discarded, where design is not a discipline, but a rebellion.

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Charlie Gormitte

We at Kilometre Paris would like to present our muse: Charlie Gormitte. There are people who drift, and there are people who drive. She is the latter, but not in straight lines, her trajectory is carved in arcs, loops, controlled collisions. She doesn’t walk through life; she curates, constructs, dismantles, rebuilds. A hand in everything, a pulse in every project, a mind restless with the need to make. Réservoir Store is one piece of her. Beesh is another. But neither contain her. Nothing does.

Beesh was not born of whimsy. It was tempered, hammered out in the raw space between defiance and necessity. Boxing shorts for women, fabric, yes, but also armor. Sewn inside prison walls, touched by hands that understand both restriction and release. It is more than a garment. It is a reclamation. Of space, of strength, of legitimacy. A testament to the body’s right to move, strike, own itself entirely. It is her morning fuel, the thing that wakes her before alarms, the reason exhaustion feels like satisfaction rather than depletion.

She doesn’t just gather people; she fuses them. A gravitational force, pulling connections from thin air, threading together strangers into something meaningful, urgent, alive. The art of the encounter is her lifeblood, the unpredictable electricity of two people meeting at the right time, in the right place, with the right spark. Some collect objects. She collects moments.

And yet, she is no mere wanderer. She is rooted in the intangible, the weight of a presence, the gravity of those who make a place feel like home, no matter where it is. Location is incidental. A well-poured coffee, an impromptu apéro, sunlight catching the rim of a glass, these are fleeting details. What matters is the alchemy of the right people, the right energy, the feeling of exhale, of this is it, this is good, let’s stay a little longer.

Even in moments of pause, she is building. Her home is not just a space but an extension of herself, meticulously curated, scavenged, shaped by instinct rather than plan. A perpetual work-in-progress, much like her.

To be called a muse, fine. But she was never waiting to be seen. She was always in motion, writing herself into existence with every risk taken, every boundary pushed. The question was never whether the world would notice. The question was simply whether it could keep up.

Galila Brazilai Hollander

We at Kilometre Paris would like to present our muse: Galila Barzilai. A force of nature, an insatiable seeker, a collector in the truest sense, not merely of objects, but of ideas, provocations, obsessions. She does not collect art; she breathes it, devours it, lets it shape and reshape her world like an addiction she has no desire to cure. For her, art is not a possession, it is oxygen, a necessity, a way of navigating existence itself.

She trusts her instinct, always. She does not ask for validation. She does not wait for approval. From the beginning, she has followed her own path, a road paved with the unexpected, with discoveries that challenge, disturb, delight. And then, in 2019, she made the boldest move yet, Galila’s P.O.C. A sanctuary for over 600 works, a living, breathing space in the heart of Brussels where art is not just displayed, but experienced. Here, every piece is an encounter, every visit an initiation. She does not just collect, she amplifies, dedicating herself to sharing the voices of the artists she champions.

But Galila is not merely a custodian of objects; she is a conduit. She sends pieces out into the world, exhibitions, museum loans, collaborations. Her collection does not gather dust; it travels, speaks, evolves. The latest chapter? L’Art de Rien, an exhibition where her selections whispered, screamed, and shimmered among the walls of CENTRALE for contemporary art.

And next? 2025, a year of celebration, twenty years of collecting, five years of Galila’s P.O.C. A retrospective at MAD Brussels, a catalogue that will tell the story not just of the collection, but of the obsession, the journey, the relentless pursuit of what moves her.

And yet, for all her love of art, it is the human connection that drives her. Young artists, emerging voices, she sees in them the world to come, the visions that will define tomorrow. She thrives in these exchanges, in the energy of discovery, in the endless conversation between past, present, and future.

Belgium may have given her a home, but she is a citizen of the world, belonging to no single place, bound only by her curiosity, her hunger, her need to be surprised. Where is her favorite place? Anywhere that stops her in her tracks. The jolt of an artwork that makes her heart race. The hush of an architectural masterpiece that pulls her into another time. The raw force of nature that reminds her she is small, fleeting, part of something vast.