Mensch
A dramatic female and male synthwave duet about a human life reduced to a legal identity, a number and a role—and the Mensch who remains behind the file.

Apps, games, writing, music, and work in progress.
A dramatic female and male synthwave duet about a human life reduced to a legal identity, a number and a role—and the Mensch who remains behind the file.

A nomad walks a neon desert highway through a border checkpoint, waits out the rain at a midnight diner, shares a stranger's fire by a mountain lake and climbs the switchbacks to watch the sun rise.

No buttons, no floors, no destination. The glass carries me past every signal into the void.

The cards fall away. Now she reads the board instead.

The glass knows my name. Tonight, one hour belongs to me.

Look up. Who’s holding the strings?

i'm getting close to having smooth sun salutation animations
An empty arena. A sold-out show.

A song for the humans still here.


An everyday journey into data privacy: what our devices reveal, who we trust with our information, and practical alternatives for operating systems, browsers, messages, photos, and passwords.
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A relationship becomes a house built on hope, damaged by mistrust, and repeatedly repaired. This essay follows the comfort of reconciliation, the limits of promises and forgiveness, and the search for steadier ground when that shared home finally gives way.
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A small story about a tree that wants every season to feel like summer. It becomes a way to think about attachment in relationships: how care can turn into a demand for certainty, and how love can leave room for change.
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