I have always been a collector. Not of things, but of fragments.
Stories half-heard at the dinner table. Strange words from old dictionaries. Objects that seem ordinary until you look at them long enough. I grew up surrounded by people who held on to things, sometimes sentimentally, sometimes stubbornly. Somewhere along the way, I realised I was doing the same, except I held on to moments and turned them over until they became stories.
For a long time, I thought this tendency made me unfocused. I was interested in too many things, moved on too quickly, started more than I finished. Writing gave that instinct a place to go. It allowed me to follow curiosity instead of fighting it.
I started my career as a software developer. I liked the work, but I was always more interested in the people around it. Why they built what they built. What they cared about. What they chose not to say.
Marketing, for me, became a way to explore that at scale.
Most of my work so far has been in community-led storytelling for tech. Profiles, narratives, experiments. Work that tries to make companies feel less like entities and more like collections of people.
If there’s a common thread, it’s this: I pay attention. And then I decide what is worth keeping.
