Dawn dwellings: chronicling this tumultuous thing we call life, navigating the topics of belonging, getting out of the mud and finding one's true self. More often than not sketching the absurd and surrealist depths and lightnesses of reality.
I am a writer of bodies, closed and open, starving and fed. Of shells, found in the sand, built thick or broken. A writer of rooms, of houses, of homes; Of the spaces we collect, with their walls and holes.
Making meaning of our human experience through binge-watching, people-observing, nature-fangirling, and midnight-scrolling. From a difficult woman savouring every last drop of her stay here on Earth.
Figuring out the universe through some good old loathing and resentment. These are ill-tempered and ill-remembered love bits from the Shitstorm.