A word stands on its own and, on its own, is enough.

To write is to engage against your instincts. It is making the reader feel this “je-ne-sais-quoi” in effortless fashion.

In a moment, I secured my client a significant investment by removing one word out of their copy, and in another, I rallied the head of a cultural commission’s digital public around the “poetry in camels crossing the finish line.” I wrote for agencies, ministries, eclectic sportsbrands, avant-guarde museums, fashion and film.

Those moments happen on a plane, in a train around the Alps, as I am about to ski down the hill in snowy, misty Tremblant, and after a long mountainous hike, resting before the Abudelauri Glacier Blue Lake.

They also happen on my table, in the intimate space between mind and paper.

They are the subtle yet intentional product of a non-conformist, unorthodox vision of writing, where the word is not confined in the confines of boundaries and conditions.

I work closely with my clients to write them extraordinary stories and narratives. Like an editor-in-chief, up close and personal.

You could be next.