At Cire Trudon, matches are an essential part of the ritual. In one crack, it ignites the wick, surprises the shadow and gives life to light. Delicately perfumed, it signs the prologue for some of the stories behind the candles. Elegant, long and delicate, asleep in their illustrated boxes, they patiently wait for their destiny. If the box is left slightly open, they will slightly scent, in their sleep, a drawer, a cupboard or a study.
In a hotel of Havana, under the fixed sun of the Revolution : the fierce and partisan overtones of leather and tobacco meddle with the paneling’s waxen silence. In the cool dimness, fawn grimaces shimmer along with the smoke of cigars and the barrels of guns.