The blog.
Notes from the kitchen table — songwriting, inspiration, slow life. Written between songs, mostly with a coffee getting cold next to me.
These are the things I notice — slowly, mostly at the kitchen table. The songs as they come together, the people who keep showing up, and the moments that wanted to be written down before they passed.
On writing The Cup Itself
A slow cafe song about the first warm day of spring at the harbour bath — and a small philosophical thought that landed on me there. About what we measure, what we should look at instead, and the question I think I have been getting wrong my whole life.
Read the post →
On writing Where I Learned to Breathe.
A slow Sunday coffee jam about the only phone call I make when nothing else is working — my dad, five thousand miles away, and the quiet way he keeps teaching me how to step out of my own way.
Read the post →
On writing If You Only See the Shadows.
A slow cafe jazz song about the way negativity becomes a habit — and the strange experience of writing a song to myself, by name, to make it stop.
Read the post →
A long needed spa day with Emblu.
Weights, warm water, a sauna where nothing stays private — and a plate of sushi at the end of a day that felt like exactly what I needed.
Read the post →
On being the songwriter of my own songs.
The quiet work behind the songs — notebooks, voice notes, late nights, unfinished lines, and the strange courage of telling the truth in your own words.
Read the post →
On writing One Street Over.
A song about cycling past someone's door and feeling — for the first time — absolutely nothing. And how that nothing turned out to be everything.
Read the post →
On writing Let It Stay Like This.
A song about the fragile moment before something becomes real — and the quiet fear of losing it the second you reach for it.
Read the post →
How Still in the Air was written, in three sittings.
The first verse came at 5am. The chorus came two weeks later, in a car. The bridge took a year.
Read the post →
On writing Da Nang in My Head.
I went for a month. Everything was vibrant. Then — without knowing why — time started to flow differently.
Read the post →
A morning, slowly.
What slow mornings do for your health, energy, and mind — and how they became the reason I wrote "Between the Drops".
Read the post →
Friendship doesn't count distance.
A childhood friendship that always picks up right where it left off — no matter how far, no matter how long.
Read the post →New posts, in your inbox.
One letter a month — songs, words, and the occasional unreleased thing.