I wield language because language alone can defend itself.

My medium is typewritten language, apart from one short film. I write fragmented 

fiction that plays with aphorism, a method of writing that favors wit and concision on my end, rumination on yours. 

I often call my fragments ‘scenes’ or ‘portraits.’ Fiction grants me the freedom to imagine; fragments grant me the freedom to allow a story to grow and diverge, with no plot to tend to. Tragicomedy lends both the reckoning of truth and the comedy of deception towards a retrospective epiphany.

I use a typewriter to delineate design. The dated tool makes all words carry the same weight. Typos prevail. The typewriter formalizes my thoughts in action; I make objects to resist being one. My disregard for modern technologies is born out of a devotion to language. The typewriter is more than a stylistic choice: it abides to language as it’s only end, too.

The reader is granted the rules of the game within the language alone. 

Patience is the price to play.