I was born in the Baltics at the tail end of the long grim soviet occupation, and raised in the turmoil and fresh energy our regained independence brought along with it.
I studied Art History with focus on Philosophy but I also wanted to see the world so I packed my bags and moved to London the day after my university graduation.
I had precisely zero idea what I was going to do there, or with the rest of my life, but my desire to taste the freedom that had been denied to my parents’ and their parents’ generation was as mighty as my youthful arrogance.
I ended up spending fifteen years in this weird and wonderful city, having some of the best times of my life and moments I am less crazy about in retrospect. I met incredible, fascinating and downright outrageous people along the way, and while there were times when I was scared, broke, utterly lost, and all of the above at the same time, I was never-ever bored!
Last year I ditched my corporate job and moved to a remote farm in the Devon countryside. In many ways our old cottage in the middle of nowhere reminds me of my grandmother’s home. There I spent most of my childhood summers, devouring books and writing my own stories in the hammock she fixed for me between two perfectly spaced birch trees.
The hammock is yet to be installed in our West Country garden but with the change to the slower pace of life my love for writing has returned.
I am fond of magical realism and attempting to - in my own way and with varying degrees of success - make sense of this wild world we live in.
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