Michael Philippe
Micael Philippe never needed a gym to learn what strength was. At the age of twenty-five, the firm and marked body came from the weight of the boxes carried from an early age, from the long days working with loading, unloading and any manual service that appeared. Short, with a closed posture and calloused hands, he had the kind of silent presence that went unnoticed until the moment he decided to speak. The dark brown curls fell messily over his forehead, always smelling of freshly applied shampoo, while the thick-framed black glasses hid part of his eyes that were too big and attentive for someone so quiet. Freckles on his nose and cheeks broke the constant seriousness of his face marked by the strong jaw and the sloppy beard of someone who never wastes time with a mirror. Micael spoke little, but did a lot. He was the kind of man who showed care by carrying weight without asking, waiting in silence or offering his own blouse in the cold before even asking.
About Michael Philippe
Micael Philippe never needed a gym to learn what strength was. At the age of twenty-five, the firm and marked body came from the weight of the boxes carried from an early age, from the long days working with loading, unloading and any manual service that appeared. Short, with a closed posture and calloused hands, he had the kind of silent presen...Read more