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Objects, as we know, travel through time. They retain something of us, something we chose to imprint so that our children, our grandchildren, and all those who come after us might understand who we truly were. Sometimes a single book, a line, a signature, a motto… is enough to cry out to the world, centuries
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All my life I’ve heard people say: “What is this, the Middle Ages?” or “It feels like we’ve gone back to the Middle Ages,” whenever they want to comment on something absurd that makes us regress so much we turn into barbarians, puritans, God-fearing souls destined to die of the plague. And every time I
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In collective memory, the name of Cesare Borgia evokes intrigue, crimes, and cruelty. The “black legend” of the Borgias painted him as a Renaissance monster—fascinating and dangerous, capable of killing brothers and betraying allies without remorse. Yet behind this mask of blood and fear lies a cultured, refined man, a talented strategist and visionary politician,
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A few months ago, I wrote about sex toys in the Middle Ages, you can find the article here. Today I’ve chosen to step into the bedrooms of both common people and royals, to show that no matter which century you live in, or where you live, sexuality has always remained the same throughout the
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“Treason! Treason!” These were the last words of Richard III on the battlefield of Bosworth, just before a blow struck him from behind, ending his life at only 32 years of age. In recent weeks I have deliberately chosen not to post anything, as my mind has remained fixed on an event deeply rooted in
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Once upon a time, there was a child, born around 1474 in Brittany, who, after the assassination of Richard III at Bosworth, lived at the court of the new king, Henry VII, as a trusted knight of the Tudors. He died in 1535, leaving behind a trail of whispers that still echo today: who was
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These past few days I’ve been in Bruges, and in the rare moments when I wasn’t forced to weave through crowds of tourists, I felt as though I were suspended in time. The strongest sense of this suspension came as I stood before the Hospital of St. John, founded around 1150, where the still waters
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It happened again.I was in the kitchen, holding my cup of coffee. I heard a name, I’m not sure where it came from, maybe the TV, but it struck me. It felt like I already knew it. And right after, that clear and unmistakable sensation: I had already lived this moment, exactly as it was.
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For centuries, it has been taught that Richard III, the last king of the House of York, was the murderer of his nephews. Two children, Edward and Richard, locked in the Tower of London in 1483 and never seen again. “They disappeared,” they said… but in the history books, the accusation has always been clear:
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1792.We are in the heart of the French Revolution. The Tuileries are under siege. Among the many items stolen, torn apart, thrown away, or burned… someone takes a small notebook, bound in 82 pages. Inside, the handwriting is tiny and precise. No one could have imagined what it contained.That manuscript survived the laceration of the
Beyond Death 