I am a writer. Through À la recherché de licornes, I create a running outline, a continuous score, in original writing, comments, and images, still and video, of the thoughts and feelings currently accompanying me in the evolution of my writing. Solitude, exile, and cunning are necessary for me to write. My blog provides me with all three. I listen to music while writing, not as a distraction, but as further enhancement to the synaesthetic experience that writing provides me. I am usually alone when writing, and able to engage thoroughly, devotedly, in this, my most beloved activity. 

Currently in self-determined exile in the Philippines, and further confined by coronavirus quarantine, the inspiration to write is as natural and involuntary as breathing. Both impetus and provocation are enhanced in this context in which I am continually a spectator, a witness, an auxiliary.

A lifetime abroad, most often among native populations bearing no ethnic relation to my own, I have grown multi-culturally and lingually diverse, and sensually and intellectually enriched. The varying personalities, personae, of my complex psyche, clinically schizophrenic in its essences – synthesizing artfulness and artifice, concealment and invention, honesty and reality, mystery and identity – finds its most sublime consummation in writing.