I am a curious person. I enjoy discoveries, the process of unraveling information, but even more than this I enjoy connecting discoveries. Everything is made of the same material, and I’m trying to figure it all out, unwind each thread and knot it to another, promote the circuitry that illuminates our life on earth. Our anthropogeography and our inability to actually pronounce that word is at the heart of what we have in common.

Thinking about where we live and how we relate to it is, of course, one thing, and writing about it a whole other. Many authors whom I admire have conducted experiments on what lies behind the veneer of everyday life, what drives us inevitably forward, what ultimately connects us; our joys, our rage, our desire to be loved. The ways we express these things, the when, where, and why, have always fascinated me. There’s so much more to the story than the scene you witness. I am interested particularly in the way the history and anthropology of a setting affects those who live within it; the Paris of Proust, the Starkfield of Ethan Frome, Lawrence’s Nottinghamshire in Sons and Lovers. Woolf takes us through a day in London in Mrs. Dalloway, Joyce does the same in Dublin in Ulysses, and glimpses of silver St. Petersburg visit throughout Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. There are so many external influences that a character brings to bear in their own story, effects of their time and place that all conjoins the narrative.

I aim to find the magical in the realistic, something just beyond reach but conceivable. In this, a scientific bent is added to the mix: quantum entanglement, with values that are uncertain until measured, and two separate particles which exist with correlated properties. Newton’s law of universal gravitation states that any two bodies in the universe attract each other with a force that is directly proportional to the product of their masses and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them.

So, in short, my writing is an investigation into the particles that construct life around us. I hope it contains meaning, as all things inherently have the potential to, and, if I may end on a quote from Camus: “I don’t know whether this world has a meaning that transcends it. But I know that I cannot know that meaning and that it is impossible for me just now to know it.”