I like to occasionally write but I don’t consider myself a writer.

For a long time, I didn’t even view myself as a whole person, but something more abysmal, some primordial womblike thing with intersecting and conflicting volatile intensities, urges, desires, and thoughts. A thing so beautifully abject and inimitably singular.

My interest in literature, philosophy, psychology, and culture are mostly for artistic purposes. Finding different ways to articulate and fine tune the exploration of the soul and the world and the intersection between the two. I really love this concept from Russian Formalism:

Ostranenie is the artistic technique of presenting to audiences common things in an unfamiliar or strange way so they could gain new perspectives and see the world differently (Wikipedia).