About me

Belgian of Polish origin, I live in Brussels, a city of passages, murmurs, and fractures. I was shaped by my grandmothers, by their fragmented stories, their silences filled with memory, and their dignified way of moving through life without complaint. From my maternal grandmother, I also inherited a particular sensitivity to invisible presences, deep intuitions, and those subtle signs that sometimes pass through reality without ever truly being explained. I grew up surrounded by old beliefs and a discreet yet living spirituality, where the visible world was never entirely separated from what escapes it.

Very early on, I learned to observe before speaking, to listen before writing. Words have accompanied me since childhood, imposing themselves with the gentleness of something inevitable. Above all, I am a poet. Poetry has never been for me an exercise or an aesthetic refuge, but a way of inhabiting the world, of feeling its tensions and fragilities.

My youthful poems remain sheltered away, like traces carefully preserved, not out of nostalgia, but to honor the path traveled. They tell the emergence of an attentive voice, already sensitive to silences, absences, and to what surfaces behind beings and things without ever fully revealing itself. Poetry taught me slowness, the weight of the right word, and that silence can sometimes contain more than long speeches.

What I write often takes root in lived experience. Not to expose, but to reveal fractures, wounds, and the fragile beauty that slips into everyday life. To put words to these moments is an attempt to contain them, sometimes even to soothe them. Writing then becomes an intimate act of resistance, a way of remaining standing before the world, without noise or posture.

I keep my distance, as a sensitive observer. I pay attention to details, to subtle gestures, to anonymous lives crossing paths without seeing one another. This attention nourishes my photographic work. I photograph in black and white, drawn to simplicity and naked truth.

My images capture street life, its fleeting moments, anonymous presences, gestures and gazes that often go unnoticed. I seek to grasp what escapes the hurried eye: light on a wall, the fold of a coat, a silhouette disappearing around a street corner. Each photograph is a suspended moment, a fragment of everyday life where fragility and the silent beauty of existence reveal themselves. Nothing is fabricated, nothing staged: only matter, light, and life as it presents itself, raw and poetic at once.

My approach is inspired by Danuta Rago (1934–2000), a Polish photographer whose discreet and attentive gaze upon everyday life deeply marked me. Like her, I strive to make visible those simple yet profoundly human moments where the ordinary becomes mysterious and poetic, where every shadow and every light tells something that words alone struggle to express.

Between words and images, I build a bubble. A space of retreat, but also of lucidity. A place where sensitivity is not hidden, but embraced as a quiet strength. Here meet fragments of lives, inhabited silences, mute intuitions, for those who know that silence speaks, and that beauty often slips quietly into the places where we least expect it.