I write for those who never said what they meant.
For those who listened, endured, remembered — and turned their silence into strength.

My name isn’t important. What matters is the thread that binds voice to shadow, memory to breath.

I come from the space between quiet pages and unfinished sentences.
My stories are not heroic. They are woven from tremors, longings, and small lights that flicker — but do not go out.

I studied cinema. Then I got lost. Then I wrote to remember.
Sometimes I still lose myself. But I write to return.

This site holds parts of the journeys I’ve taken through words — and the ones I’m still too quiet to share.

If you’re here, maybe you’re walking with me.