My mother taught me that every person deserves to feel seen, and my father taught me that the loudest man in the room is rarely the strongest. Somewhere between the two, I developed a fondness for old libraries, tailored coats, terrible jokes, and quietly making sure everyone else is alright before myself.

I tend to collect things with stories attached to them: fountain pens that have outlived their owners, leather-bound novels, forgotten photographs, and memories that refuse to fade. I smile more often than people expect, laugh quietly, and never quite learned how to leave someone standing in the cold.

I believe in opening doors and walking closest to the road. My wardrobe smells faintly of cedarwood and bergamot, my books are filled with pressed flowers, and my sense of humour tends to arrive a few seconds later than everyone expects. Looking for conversations that linger long after they've ended.

𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝕶𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊? 𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖈𝕶 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝕶𝖘 𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖆𝖘 𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖜.