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There was a typewriter on my desk at the first real job I ever had. Beside it, was tray of carbon copy paper. Beside that, was a computer.

I have always loved the sound of a typewriter. As a kid, I’d pretend I knew how to type on an old Underwood, passed on to my mum by her Uncle Henry. I loved the melodic clack of the keys and watching the swing of the typebar as it sharply swacked a letter onto the page, my small fingers covered in ink from the ribbon.


Perhaps this tactile connection to words drew me to writing. There is so much beauty in words and infinite ways to use them. They are transformative and transcendent. My lif mission is to someday use them so well, they will outlive me.


My words dwell in very deep spaces. They are not like a tap, or a pump, or a well. It is like they live below the surface of me, like a water vein. Most of the time they spring up and I do my best to collect them. I am the vessel into which they flow. I have always felt this was a gift, so I strive to nurture it. It has taken me a long time for me to share any of it, but at some point, you just have to let the river flow.


I feel we all have a valid and unique perspective. It is my hope that in sharing mine, it can be a way to connect with like-minded people, a chance to ponder, celebrate,

explore and unite.


I believe in community, and welcome you into mine.

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