I was born into a world where mornings began not in silence, but with the first notes of music.
At home, music was never just background. It was a language we spoke, breathed, and dreamed in.
As a child, I listened to how tones slowly turned into stories. One day, I decided to tell my own.

At the conservatory, I studied the harp 
an instrument that taught me both fragility and strength.
It showed me how to listen to the silence between notes, to wait for the moment when music takes its first breath.
That’s when I understood that music isn’t about perfection — it’s about emotion.

Later, I found a new home at the piano.
It holds calm and passion, space for thought, and the freedom to get lost in it.
The piano became my closest companion, one I can confide in when words are not enough.

Today, I compose and play music inspired by life around me —
by fleeting moments, silence between words, rain on the window, or a glance that lingers.
Each piece is a small story — sometimes about light, sometimes about shadow, but always honest.

I believe music can connect people without words.
When it touches the heart, it leaves a trace that remains.
And that’s what I strive for —
to let my music become your world, if only for a moment.