My journey into music was both accidental and serendipitous—rooted in a childhood misunderstanding.
A left-handed child placed in violin lessons, forced to play right-handed, I longed for the piano instead. I was caught in an awkward embrace with
an instrument that never quite fit. Years later, I put down the bow—but music never truly left. It lingered, quietly transformed, and reemerged
in the cadence of poetry and the subtle architecture of lyric.

Today, in rare moments of quiet between corporate meetings, my mind turns to the profound whispers of Wisława Szymborska and the playful precision of E.E. Cummings. Their poetry taught me how gently strength can speak, and how depth can emerge from simplicity. But these are merely glimpses into the vast ocean of my inspiration. As my ophthalmologist once quipped, "You read too many books!"- and he wasn't wrong. My songs are more than melodies; they’re carefully crafted stories, shaped by patience, perspective, and the occasional irony I've discovered by balancing two seemingly disparate worlds. With each new piece, another layer peels back, revealing literary landscapes that shaped my voice.

The most resonant lyrics aren't just heard—they reveal something deeper if you're listening closely. They invite reflection, provoke thought, and offer
a moment of shared understanding. I invite you now: listen closely, and perhaps you'll find echoes of your own story, too.