Mediation rooms, marble ruins, a coat that made me feel like the city belonged to me too. This is where the rest of it lives, the parts a courtroom bio doesn't have room for.
See where I've been
A rotating handful of what's been on my mind and in my camera roll.
A photographer's prop, a thousand feet of travertine, and absolutely no explanation needed.
Some places you brace for and they still take the wind out of you anyway.
Jemaa el-Fnaa at its most Jemaa el-Fnaa, snake included.
What I'm reading, and the ones that stay with me.
Some books get read once. Others get carried around, reread, dog-eared, and eventually photographed, because the person who wrote them earned that kind of attention.
A memoir I return to for the reminder that a public life and an honest one aren't mutually exclusive.
A prosecutor's case for what she believes, written the way she'd argue it in a room. I keep it near the others that make the same point in different voices: conviction and honesty can share a page.
Proof that a story can hold heartbreak and humour in the same sentence and never feel like it's cheating either one.
Footprints of love, across the globe
Forty-plus countries and counting, organised the way memory actually works: not by date, but by place. Start with the highlight reel, then wander by country.
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