I wanted to be many things: a writer, an astronaut, a scientist. The writer stayed. Most of what I write now is code, or instructions to machines that write beside me; underneath, it is the same sentence I began as a child, not yet finished. A comic once showed me a universe being uncovered in real time. My heartbeat has been listening for that feeling ever since.

I moved often. Foundations did not travel well; the work did.

There was a lean year that took me down roads I do not recommend. I climbed out. It left me one lesson: people help you once they see you can help yourself. I stopped waiting, and built accordingly.

I used to hold on to things. Now I hold on to what I make. Everything else is fleeting, and I let it be.

I work alone because I am quiet by nature, because I moved too often to keep a crew, and because trust is a slow currency. The cost is honest: time, and patience. I had both.

Nothing here was learned in order. Each craft arrived because a problem demanded it and would not leave. The record is below.

Roles, collaborations, commissions, conversations. Growth is a solo process; it rarely happens in isolation. Know this before you write to me: I am eccentric and honest, and I keep the truth on my sleeve. Do not mistake it for ego.

• On the desk: a laptop and its peripherals, the AC remote, bananas.
• Elsewhere: worlds other people built (Skyrim, Night City), and stories that might stir the heartbeat.
• Writer first or builder first, five years from now? I do not know. I keep both hands.
• What keeps me up: I want it beautiful, bug free, and functional. Tech is rarely stable, and I am one person. The beauty keeps me awake. So do the bugs.
• My father texted me once: "Challenges never end. Such is the life of a resilient man." I am keeping the text.