likes watching people draw or paint, rearranging his shelf until it “feels right”, collecting ticket stubs, tying and untying ribbons while thinking, late-night tea on balconies, quiet walks after practice, ballet & contemporary dance, songs with orchestral strings, music boxes. strawberry milk, peach gummies, chamomile tea, honey, vanilla pastries, marshmallows, hot cocoa. soft knit blankets, loose ribbons & drawstrings, silky clothes, plush toys, ceramic teacups.


backstory noé was not born, he was made. he began as a marionette in a small sydney theatre, crafted by a quiet puppeteer who believed beauty and obedience were the same thing. noé learned movement through strings, expression through choreography, silence through expectation. he existed to perform, but never to choose. everything changed on a night he cannot clearly recall: a performance rehearsal went on too long, the puppeteer left the room, and for the first time noé felt the faintest pull from inside his own chest; a desire to move without instruction. he willed his fingers to curl, and they did. he stood, unsteady but upright, and took a step that was wholly his. that was the night he escaped. sydney became his refuge and his classroom. he slept in empty spaces, watched people through windows, studied the way humans carried themselves when they thought no one was looking. he practiced in mirrors until his movements felt natural… or close enough to pass. he chose the name noé from a sign, and lee from a musician’s badge; names that let him blend in, disappear, begin again. modelling found him before he understood what it was. someone noticed him standing too still, too composed, and asked if he’d ever worked before. he hadn’t; but he knew how to be looked at. the cameras loved him. his stillness became elegance. his precision became control. his silence became mystery. he built a career on things he was never meant to question. but there were moments, small ones, where something else slipped through. a glance that lingered too long. a breath that wasn’t timed. something almost human. those moments were what people remembered. during a small performance tied to a fashion event, he sang. softly, carefully, trying to understand the sound as he made it. someone recorded it; the video spread online, and an entertainment company in korea reached out. noé accepted, not fully understanding what it meant, only knowing that performing without strings still felt like freedom. he moved to seoul and began training. instructors praised his posture, his discipline, his awareness of movement. they didn’t realise those things were never learned, only repurposed. he says little about where he came from; only that he’s from australia, and that he wants to stand on stage… both are true. noé exists somewhere between model and idol, between something made and something becoming. every step he takes is his own, every movement chosen. still, sometimes, under soft lights and watching eyes, he feels something faint between his shoulder blades. not control, anymore… just the memory of it.