Most of what I’ve written never saw daylight. Drafts, notebooks, half-published essays pulled back into the drawer. This isn’t the first thing I’ve written — only the first one with a permanent home.
Some words stayed hidden out of caution. Others because I wasn’t sure if it was the right time.
For years I circled this moment, like a bird that couldn’t quite decide where to settle. LinkedIn gave me reach, but demanded performance. Facebook once offered community, but it fractured into noise. Substack seemed like a voice of my own, but even there the pull of metrics and growth hacks was never far away.
Each place came with its own invisible contract: play the game, or disappear.
This blog is where the words can live. I’m not here for consistency, and I’m not here for polish. I write when I feel like writing. I’m not writing for attention or to validate my thinking. I simply needed a place to put my words.
This blog is slower, stranger, sturdier. It doesn’t scatter thoughts — it gathers them. Over time, it becomes a record, a map, a body of work. Not performance, but witness.
These are not new thoughts, I must confess. They’ve just been hidden until now.
So here I am. The first post.
This is where the words belong.