He holds out his foot, out of his flip-flop. A few pink spots still run across the top. “Yeah, there, I snuck…”, loose Killian, 24 years old, face of child and phlegm of adult. Seated in a Parisian café, he raises his T-shirt on his stomach, his back, lowers it over his shoulder, opens his fist. The twenty white pustules that had invaded her body gave way to scars of blisters and pimples, similar to spider bites. Traces of this monkey pox who forced him to hole up for three weeks, in the middle of a heat wave, in his 13 m2 studio.
