Beyond The Surface
Here, you will find a glimpse into my world and my perspective on life. I have come to understand that navigating complex paths requires finding balance and meaning in the things that make life beautiful.
This is a collection of the books I cannot put down, the films that move me, and the music that provides a soundtrack to my life. It reflects my tastes and the small details that shape my interests, from the art that captivates me to the simple moments I cherish. While this does not tell my whole story, it offers an honest look into a part of me that is truly my own.
Two Worlds, One Self
Painted in 1939, in the raw aftermath of her divorce, Frida Kahlo’s The Two Fridas is an innate exploration of a fractured identity. The two figures depict her divided self: one, dressed in a European-style gown, represents the Frida that Rivera rejected; the other, in traditional Mexican Tehuana dress, is the Frida he had loved. Their exposed hearts are connected by a single artery, yet the European Frida’s heart is wounded, and she desperately clutches a surgical clamp, attempting to stem her own bleeding. The painting is a masterful, sharp portrayal of profound emotional and physical pain.
This artwork resonates with me powerfully, though not through a narrative of severance or rejection. Instead, I see in it the complex, inescapable bond of a dual existence. My own reality mirrors this composition: two selves, seated side by side, forever linked. One figure is the education professional, a love that grew steadily and sincerely over time. This is not a despised career merely endured for financial necessity; it is a discipline I deeply respect, one that provides genuine fulfilment and commands a great deal of my intellectual energy.
The other is the writer, a spirit that truly lives and breathes within the literary realm, a world that has fundamentally shaped my consciousness. In my version of this portrait, there is no surgical instrument to divide them. The connection is intact. Yet the very artery that binds them is a constant source of profound anxiety. My central concern is whether the considerable time, passion, and focus I pour into my profession are, however unknowingly, restricting my dedication to literature, a prospect I find truly devastating.
This internal conflict sharpens when I consider the almost mythic commitment of a figure like Gabriel García Márquez, who was so consumed by a creative vision that he abandoned his profession, sold his car, and pawned his wife’s jewellery to finish One Hundred Years of Solitude. There is undoubtedly a part of me, a writer held captive within, that yearns for such a dramatic and singular rupture, to surrender everything to the creative impulse.
However, my situation is far more intricate. Unlike Franz Kafka, who viewed his clerical work with contempt, or even Kahlo’s depiction of a rejected self, I do not perceive my professional life as a cage. It is a world I genuinely cherish and find meaning in. This is the heart of the dilemma: my conflict is not between a passion and a hated chore, but a tension between two authentic loves. Each demands a form of all-consuming devotion that a single life, constrained to twenty-four hours each day, seems incapable of satisfying. I am therefore left, much like the figures in the painting, in a perpetual state of beautiful yet burdensome duality.
A Personal Compendium
While my professional identity is publicly defined, it does not represent the whole of who I am, nor does it for anyone. The following are personal collections of the worlds I inhabit, from the intellectual foundations that shape my worldview to the narratives that have captured my imagination and the personal joys that provide me with a sense of perspective.