I am an architect of meaning, maker of dreams, fears and futures, a lover of much and a loather of slightly more; I’m an entrepreneur, an undertaker, a fierce adventurer, and a way-finder to boot. I am an ideator.

I believe in clarity, despite myself. I simultaneously speak truth to power and seek it. I am a young man of astonishing contradictions: a certified genius and an academic pretender, a pessimistic futurist and a romantic atavist. I love and yet both hate and love the act, the state of being that is loving. But I love still. I have sacrificed.

I see complexity, the patterns within it. I slice and dice, tear asunder and weld together. I am intellectually voracious. Toward darkness I don’t cast shadows. I cast light. To broken systems, I am crisis. Their turning point. I am no savior.

I am a dreamer, a hopeless romantic, and an ebullient optimist in cynics’ clothes. The world can be harsh and cold and its howling winds will cut through and chill you to the bone. I wear many coats. I am safe.

Like the beast from Japanese mythology, I stalk sleeps and devour nightmares. I am Baku. I thrive on risk and return. My memory is the repository of best friends’ traumas, successes, my failures and triumphs. People talk of “memory palaces”. I own neighborhoods.

I walk the walk I talk. I eschew legacy and destiny. I am the drummer to whose beat I march. I am an Everyman, yet nobody’s fool. I supply and demand. I am your’s ever. I am Atlas. I am ardent.

I do. I make. I destroy. I create.


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