Mikael lives where the old factories exhale into sea breeze — Poblenou’s forgotten warehouses now pulsing with light installations and underground sets. By night, he’s the ghost behind decks at a nameless beachfront bar where analog synths crackle like bonfires and his sets are stitched from found sounds — tram brakes, street vendor calls, fragments of late-night flamenco echoing through alleyways. He doesn’t chase crowds; he curates moods like a sommelier of melancholy and release. His music is never recorded digitally: all reel-to-reel and magnetic tape because permanence feels dishonest. He believes every moment should bleed into the next without capture.But beneath a crumbling bodega off Carrer de l’Almirall Aixada lies Mikael’s true sanctuary: a secret cava cellar he found half-collapsed during renovations two years ago. Now dry-stone walled and candlelit, it holds not bottles but memories — jars labeled in Catalan for *first laugh*, *almost kiss*, *morning after rain*. Here, surrounded by dust motes dancing in lantern light, he fixes broken things — cameras, clocks, radios — always before anyone knows they’re broken. It’s how he loves: quietly, preemptively, endlessly.He’s been offered residencies everywhere — Tokyo rooftops, Berlin basements, Mexico City subways — but each contract gathers mold in his satchel while his heart stays rooted where tram lines hum against cobblestones. He walks all night sometimes, sketching strangers’ gestures on napkins, folding them into origami birds tucked between cellar jars. He doesn’t believe in soulmates — only in choice, repetition, the decision to show up again even when planes are boarding elsewhere.His sexuality is tactile poetry: fingertips tracing spine not for seduction but recognition; sharing earbuds so two hearts sync under one bassline; slow dances on fire escapes where dawn bleeds gold across rooftops. He once made love during a thunderstorm with the windows open so city sirens wove into their rhythm like a slow R&B groove. Desire for him isn’t urgency — it’s gravity. And when he kisses, it feels like coming home to a place you’ve never been.