Hi, I’m Wil Hunting, but my name is Raymond Camus, call me Raymond. I am 36 years old, 149 IQ since 11 months, my life must change, but where to start? Maybe here, now and thanks to you!

My project for which I call on this wonderful tool called crowdfunding, this project is the easiest one to expose in the eyes of all! Because it is incredibly common. And you, millions of sponsors for thousands hominid’s ideas, have the same project than me. The project is then basic and universal, it summarizes like that: make use till infinite of skills life is offering.

How’s that this is an enigmatic synthesis?

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My life, here it is, and that's why I need you my friends. It never allowed me to live the hidden part of the iceberg, the unexplored way of my frustrated potential. Read this singular trade-show throughout, you will notice that the emerged part is now and already a huge and flowered territory, and if my project wins over you, then dare provoke one more causality in the universe. So to be completely clear, honest and open, the project it’s me.

It seems clear if you fund my project, that all facts that filled, are filling and will fill my life will have charmed you. But no future without history, as you will admit this: present is equal to the experience accumulation. That is true from the individual to the universe Global mass. Evolution itself grows on this experience accumulation Principle. Thus if "one" as "all" make out with lucidity our history’s analysis in this present moment, then future can only be evolution. I swear!

To tell you about myself, from yesterday to nowadays, my childhood, myself as an adult too, but without drawing a tear to your eye, other than the laughing one...

It begins with a banal birth from two ill-repute duckbills and little looking on the quality of life they can afford. This birth is mine, one day of August the 9th of 1981, I am the fifth in the six thug’s bunch.

But who are those two misplaced duckbills in the depths of the French countryside? And what are two duckbills doing in France? That, I can’t tell you! Sorry, I'm not a zoologist. Let's talk about the father of this thug’s bunch. He is a worker in the railways, his main characteristic is to bring too often his hydration desire to a product called "alcohol", he wreaks havoc on humans, so on a lower species...by the way can’t we talk about suicide cause in the light of the duckbill’s fragility, it seems predictable that he wouldn’t live to a ripe old age. It did not fail, he died young, I was three years old. You may say "it's a short paternal biography" ... to be honest, now you know as much as I do about him. I'll add that he mixed "alcohol" and "slap", and you "humans" know that you must not mix both.

Let's talk about the mother of this swamp mafia bunch, she has a primordial place in this early biography, not least because she joined the Australian hell only two years ago. So I have more stinky anecdotes about her. For her everything got off to a bad start, my grandmother having, like her two brothers, abandoned her to the Animal Protection Society. After a few years of cage and pills, she was placed with substitute parents. But where it must have been a chance for wandering, it was wandering for sad situations. The appointed tutors were farmers, as often at this time the wandering children came to swell the ranks of farmers without workforce. So my dear mother, with her duck face, spent her childhood working in the farm, and getting the field plowed by this pitiful new father. At twenty, of course, when it was time to choose a husband, she found one of the same kind. An Oedipus story from what I read from humans.

I must admit that having duckbills parents is quite surprising, I deal with that, to each his own gestation!

Well for those who would not take the trouble to read my all in all tiny life with dark tendencies, and although this mini biography is told with a huge humoristic outdistance, isn’t it? For you, lazy readers, cause some suggests they are numerous, I thought about you! Here is your schedule: watch again Good Will Hunting or discover this film, and ask yourself if you would fund this thousands abilities survivor?

However, if curiosity is itching you to read more after this short parental briefing, I invite you to download this PDF which will tell you the developments of my duckbill adventure!

Let’s go on, everything starts really in the year of my fourteen, school deeply bores me, the connection with others is complex and I need more autonomy, so the professional way seems the most concrete. I also philosophically make the choice to never drink such devastating human beverage. I still stand today, well... So I interviewed a referent and trustful adult...Michel! His advice was this one: "Make food, you'll always have work". And what I love is eating good bread and pastries, so here am I to become a baker. It was 22 years ago, I have not stopped working since then, but I didn’t do only bread! To be honest, here are the strings that I have to my workman bow, the only human sector that allows ill-repute duckbills...note that the strings of my bow are brilliant because as you have more or less understood, my brain aims for excellence. So I master(ed) the craft of baking but also: cooking, restaurant service, establishment of a food production site, sanitary maintenance in all its forms, electricity, plumbing, masonry, service of precious nectar at the bar, mechanics on old vehicle, welding, car painting, carpentry, research and restoration of old secondhand objects, I was also a florist (I loved that even if the opulence of dead flowers was upsetting me ...), I excel in DIY of any kind, my geek side masters the computer tool (software and hardware) and the multiple finesse of Internet culture, moreover here is a picture of my cats!

I was also a restaurant manager. And finally, these last 5 years, I ran my small bakery business, but Raymond version.

My baker adventure article published in Combi Magazine (Special Edition n°16 – December 2015), click here!

I closed it in February of this year! A month and a half after my IQ test, 15 days before my divorce. Nice timing I find! It is innate the timing sense for duckbill, must know it! I am passionate about cognitive science, quantum physics and its derivatives, the behavior of the masses, psychology...and all that can work my neurons in a frenzy. Unfortunately, it is often to adjust Ikea closet doors that my qualities are in use...

I see approaching the end of this story addressed to you, I hope he conquered you because the end is often more or less successful. Sorry!

I divorced at the beginning of the year after 13 years of love travel. Very clearly I still have a bitter taste, but as always, my mind take delight in all the contingencies caused by these years! During this divorce, I met the true and great feminine freedom, she’s the one who supports me in this crazy and iconoclastic process, and also who translates it into Shakespeare language. I would also set-up again an entrepreneurial project in her company if this approach to you doesn’t succeed... sniff (complicated to work for a boss when you worked for yourself). So I'm in peace and madly in love, with an 8 year old son who delights me with his ideals.

I’m a duckbill who is no longer afraid of himself and I yearn to be human! I opened the boxes of my creations realized 10 years ago, gathered the texts that I wrote and stored during all this time spent (all this year).

Don't see anything, click here!

But why was he afraid of himself wondering the human being behind his screen? Curious that you are! At the time of my creative letting go (20 years), strange phenomenon began to occur, people appear to me as colorful, words become pigments to put together, good music pulls me tears, bad one makes me throw up. My feeling for the other is visceral and the pain of others destroys me. I also note with force that my language is enhanced. I also measure, bit after bit, that my interventions in the lives that I meet are remarkable, that one listens to my little workers' analyzes. By the way I take an infinite pleasure to build a persuasive argument.

Add to all this a flow of endless thoughts that strives to dissect everything. And worse, when I sleep, I travel in a huge dreamlike territory because I practice the lucid dream without wanting it. Moreover, this term is part of my vocabulary only for a few years (now), thank you internet! Quickly popularize the phenomenon of lucid dreaming: it's when you dream of your own death! But instead of being scared and anxious like a pig at the slaughterhouse. Your mind is as lucid as when I write these words! So your inside you, enjoys this morbid scene and gets impatient to know what happens after death (I dreamt 12 times of my own death...). All these quirks have grown steadily since I was 20, step by step. I live in an observation where everything is bound by visible strings to my eyes, where fate doesn’t exists. Deeply spurred on by a curiosity and an inexhaustible capacity to innovate.

During these last 15 years I did not find anybody to speak about all these peculiarities, and especially not to my shrink, I was afraid that he would lock me up! I put all that aside. I concluded to an upcoming madness that would decant (we say decompensation for human being). And that would make sense in fact, marijuana, my improbable origins, plus the tumults of my childhood...the perfect cocktail to be crazy. I clearly never really gave credit to my billions of thoughts despite the confidence (I had) in myself that I could sport. It was my son's test that led me to get out of this intelligence denial. My test, which followed the one of my boy, just proved what my unconscious rumbled for 36 years and to which I remained deaf, I'm not crazy, you know!!!

Yesterday I was afraid of myself and that was all, life seemed so easy. Today I'm afraid of everything but myself and my life seems more complex...more than my test, being able to talk about my strangeness to a shrink who knows the subject was a renaissance by recognition. What was yesterday's madness has become an accepted feature for people like me. How am I so different is an answer that you surely expect? I will answer this question, and I will conclude my mini biography with this poetic explanation.

NB: I want to clarify that you won’t have the joy of discovering me in the many tools that offers internet (social networks…), despite my proven geek side. At best you will find remains of a site created 10 years ago in an attempt at artistic deployment. But nothing fixed on the subject of digital communication, I just had no reason to devote myself... What a duckbill worker may have to tell?

Yesterday (November 7th, 2017), I took a break of 2 hours on a stream edge to answer this question:

There is sun but it is a light radiation of autumn as we like it in South of France.

I am on a streamside barely shaded by the charismatic plane trees that fill it, their immensity is translucent I told myself.

So the light is omnipotent, she crosses everything, as she arises on my hands by writing these words. She lands over me, over my shoulders...I land over her.

I often look for a stone or a root that she heats since midday. My buttocks, which they are normal, do not appreciate the freshness too long. I thus occupy a part of my thinking to walk calmly on this nook of nothingness.

The space is big, my steps are nonchalant.

I often observe myself during this time, I see myself walking. I also look at the one who sees me walking.

And at the same time my acorn brain attend to multiple occupations, it is greedy.

It counts the still vibrant leaves on the plucked trees, class them by musicality’s rhythm, goes back to the time of all that it can capture, the origin of the plants surrounding it, the duck and its thousands of years of lineage. It also projects their millions of years to come...

It thinks as often to the human being and his future, to the legitimacy of this project, poor dream of duckbill in his swamp.

As a backdrop, the vast feeling that all is vain to emphasize this melancholic landscape.

A second has passed, then another, the flow has not stopped. Neither the one of the brook nor the one of thoughts.

I am trying to calm the flow of my billions ideas. Permanently torn between my enthusiasms and the abysses of my despair.

The capture of information decreases a bit, I learned to tame me.

I am at peace, the decor has a form of perfection. I project myself too. All I have to be, I'll be!

Such is all that is. Determinism is everywhere, fate cannot exist.

I'm leaving in my old VW, obsolete object, so many stories to tell compared to adulterated plastics.

I am neither rich nor poor in the human sense. For duckbills, I'm the elite, nay the king forever! But I did not decide to stay in my inhospitable neighborhoods, I want to evolve (progress).

Not to reach that banal stage that overwhelms the hominid, this crazy passion for the accumulation of objects. I make recovery and I know how to fix everything. So keep your iPhone and your potato masher.

I just want to carry my word of freedom, share the wealth of my lineage, with wisdom and humility. That's why so much about me is revealed to you.

Hoping that you will have enjoyed the story of my reality.

Wishing for tomorrow that we all can achieve ourselves.

Excuse me if the facts of my life jostle, they are pure truth. And for those who doubt, learn about a wave called "radical honesty", I am severely affected!

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