Thought weaver and wordsmith of sorts, keeper of lives and lover of the ebb and flow of oceans and words. Sorcerer’s apprentice and irredeemable scribbler of most things. Stargazer, time thief, and unrepentant dreamer. A juggler of many hats. Forever young, imperfect, interrupted.
Portuguese by birth and half my soul, I currently live in England with a long-suffering native husband, 3 cats and a few scores of fish. I love eating cheese with rustic bread and red wine, which might possibly account for a thing or two. I remain fascinated with kneading and baking bread, in a seemingly endless pursuit of my grandmother’s elusive corn borôa recipe.
I might possibly come across a tad too intense about politics on social media, which is understandable since it was my previous métier. Before that, it was literature and linguistics.
Intermittent collector of old vinyl records. And I’ve got far, far too many paper books. Ask my aggrieved family, and they’ll tell you all about it.
Occasional poet. I write about many things, but mostly creative non-fiction, though sometimes I stray into flash fiction and even short stories. Lately writing about a lifetime of memories, forgetfulness, and loss and devastation. My first book will in all likelihood be this memoir I’ve been working on for what feels like an age and a half.
And I still dream of swimming with humpback whales, my greatest dream, though I now know I never will.