The resume that makes recruiters confused — and clients trust me

Chapter 1: The Scientist

I earned a genetics degree because I wanted to understand the source code of life. Molecular biology, gene expression, cellular signaling — the language of how the body decides to age, repair, or collapse. That training never left me. It is the lens through which I evaluate every supplement, every protocol, every health claim that crosses my desk. When someone says "this superfood reverses aging," I think: show me the mechanism. Show me the pathway. Show me the paper.

Chapter 2: The Communicator

After genetics, science journalism, at Paris 7. It taught me a lesson I never let go of: knowing something is worthless if you cannot transmit it clearly. Translating complexity into clarity is a discipline of its own, and it is exactly what I do today when I explain to someone what their own labs are saying.

Chapter 3: The Composer-Orchestrator

Music was supposed to be a detour. It became fifteen years, scoring documentaries and films for Arte, TF1, France 2, HBO Max, the BBC, ZDF and Hulu, with a few awards along the way. But that is not what I took from it.

This craft is not about writing notes, it is about listening to a whole. An orchestrator does not judge instruments one at a time: a section perfectly in tune on its own can still sound wrong inside the whole. What fifteen years train in you is global listening, and above all the ability to catch a drift before the audience can hear it.

An orchestra left to itself goes out of tune. Each section slides into its own tempo, the instruments stop answering one another, and what was music turns into noise. The day I came back to biology, I recognised exactly that in ageing: cells lose their tuning and part of their identity, they stop answering each other, and the whole system falls out of sync.

The parallel is more literal than it sounds. The conductor is the only one with the full score in front of them; each player reads only their own part, a few lines out of hundreds. In a body, the full score is the genome, present in its entirety inside every one of your cells, and each player's part is the fragment that one cell alone knows how to read. A cell that starts misreading its part does not break, it plays out of tune. And the ensemble drifts apart. What coordinated all of it during growth is demonstrated, it is embryology, and it winds down around the age of twenty. What takes over afterwards is still an open question, and my answer is that nothing really does.

That is where my way of working comes from. Not from the metaphor, but from what it demands: looking at a body as a whole rather than a list of organs, and hunting the drift while it is still quiet. That is what separates anticipation from repair, and advice before disease from care once it has arrived.

Chapter 4: The Pivot

At 50, the composer's lifestyle caught up with me. Fifteen years in a dark studio. Irregular sleep. Stress-eating through deadlines. My genetics training knew exactly what was happening at the cellular level — and it was not good.

So I did what scientists do: I researched. I tested. I measured. I built a personal longevity protocol from the ground up — NMN, omega-3, magnesium, chrono-nutrition, movement protocols, biomarker tracking. Within months, the changes were measurable. Within a year, they were visible.

Simultaneously, I went deep into consciousness work. Teal Swan's shadow work. Mindvalley's manifesting methodology. The Completion Process. I discovered that the body and the psyche are not separate systems — they are one instrument, and most people are playing it out of tune.

Chapter 5: The Synthesis

Sharp Forever exists to hold a global view where almost everything is cut into pieces. A specialist looks at their organ. A nutrition coach looks at the plate. A smart watch looks at sleep. Nobody looks at the whole, and yet it is the whole that ages.

A holistic approach is not a vague one, it is the opposite. It means measuring several systems, reading them together, and acting on the one dragging the others down. An isolated marker says almost nothing. Three markers crossed with your genetic terrain and the way you live draw a trajectory, and a trajectory can be corrected.

That is also why I work upstream. By the time a problem becomes a diagnosis, we are already in repair. What interests me is the window before that, while the system can still be tuned back.