The other
side of things

The family farm is the reset button. You know when the job is done — the field is empty, the grain is in, and there's nothing left to iterate on. In a career of infinite sprints, harvest is the one deadline that actually ends.

Mostly phone shots, some camera work, the occasional pinhole experiment. Not a real photographer — just someone who keeps waking up early because the sky does things no monitor can reproduce.

Got huge into climbing, competed at a mid-level rock competition and did well. There's something about a climb that mirrors good architecture — you read the wall, plan the route, commit to the move, and trust your holds.

Scuba is the opposite of everything above ground. Silent, weightless, slow. Deep water certified with advanced, nitrox, and a handful of other certs. Down there, the only notification is your air gauge.

Traveling to eat. Cooking what I find. Every culture has a dish that tells you more than any history book. Food is the most honest form of storytelling.

Played instruments for as long as I can remember. Music doesn't have pull requests. You play it, it exists for a moment, and then it's gone. That impermanence is the whole point.

Love being in the air. Love being somewhere new. Every culture has something to teach you, usually through food, and usually in a language you don't speak. That's the best part.

The collection is... substantial. Problems with clear rules, defined end states, and opponents who are physically present. Also, no one has ever filed a Jira ticket about a board game.