About

Eydris is a signature, not a biography. A first name is something you receive without choosing it; a signature is the one chance to name yourself. This one hides nothing, the legal name appears where the law requires it. It marks only a vantage point: the cold side of the glass, the side from which these pages are written.

Under this name appear philosophical essays. They question lucidity, pessimism, and what our social conventions keep off-stage. Their thread is not one more critique of the age, but an older question: what becomes of a person who cannot, or will no longer, give up the truth of their relation to the world? Two books were born from that question. Misonoia: The Hatred of Us (Misonoïa, la haine de nous), which names the aversion to consciousness itself, the moment when knowing oneself alive stops being a privilege and turns into a burden. And The World Without a Mask (Le monde sans masque), which looks at what autism reveals, not as a disorder to be corrected but as a presence that makes visible the theatre everyone else performs without seeing it.

This work neither pleads nor consoles. It offers no method, no way out, no workable wisdom. It draws a map instead: a map of the vantage points from which a truth becomes true, and of the thresholds where it reverses. It is written from the wound, not from the balcony, and takes no credit for it.

These texts are meant for those who seek companions in thought more than answers. For those who prefer a question held open to a consolation closed too soon. If, in reading them, someone recognises an ache they believed they felt alone, then they will not have been written in vain.