Since publishing Nothingness (2024), I've been pushing myself to experiment, be bolder and more courageous in my voice. I like to explore uncertainty, things that are abstract and unshaped, and how time is non-linear as we let memory intertwine with everyday life, creating new texture in our feelings and thoughts. Because of how much I like the undefined, my story too is fused, never fitting neatly into one box. 

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Shaped in part by my background in psychology and in part by my nomadic, fragmented childhood between the remote mountains in China and the countryside of Cambridge, I enjoy playing with both the sound and the image of language. Different stories have their own lyricism and atmosphere, but always anchored in the ache of memory, self and absence. 

 

In my examination of the fragile relationship between perception and reality, I like to ask how memory alters what we believe to be true, how consciousness shapes the world around us, and what remains when our familiar understanding of the self is ruthlessly taken away by life's own absurd turn of events.