I write stories about people who don’t quite belong—those drifting somewhere between instinct and reason, desire and control, life and its slow collapse.
My work lives in uncomfortable spaces: obsession, decay, routine, fragile intimacy. I’m interested in what hides beneath ordinary language, beneath roles people play, beneath the thin layer that keeps everything from falling apart.
I don’t try to make characters likable. I try to make them real.
Before writing became the center of everything, I followed a more predictable path—plans, structure, ambition. That world eventually lost its grip on me. What remained were fragments: images, voices, sensations. They turned into words. Then into stories.
Now I build atmospheres rather than plots. I observe more than I explain. I prefer ambiguity over answers.
This website is a collection of those fragments—stories, ideas, and experiments. Some of them are raw. Some unfinished. All of them are honest.
If something here makes you uncomfortable, unsettled, or strangely familiar—then it works.