Though often very cheerful, grateful, adventurous and life-affirming, I would consider myself to be quite a pensive and melancholic person. I was born in Brussels into a very unique family. My mother is a hard-working, big-hearted, and wise woman. She grew up in the Chinese countryside and worked herself up to current Germany entirely on her own—often, she would solve problems by bumping her head into a thick stone wall. The harder you bump, the bigger the crack. Growing up with her meant two things: Always eat your food up and go to bed early. She taught me the strength of compassion and the value of having a heart for all. In my family, the traditional roles were reversed, as my mother was making the money while my father took care of the children.

My father. He taught me how to dream and how to love solitude. He is from Russia, and he often told me about his old home nostalgically, knowing very well that all of it is gone. When I grew up, my friends and their parents found him somewhat bizarre—but he taught me how not to take life or myself too seriously.

Luckily, I got fed a lot of interesting thoughts and stories ever since I can think. Many of these stories revolve around spirituality, superstitions and tales from my ancestors…

After having moved around the continents, we settled in Germany, growing up in a quiet place next to the forest. I grew up with four different languages simultaneously which made me struggle a lot with expressing my thoughts the way other children could understand. This made me often rather quiet and observant as I didn't know how to express myself, teaching me to listen more than to speak.

I always felt in between worlds, as my family was alien to Germany. I never felt home in Russia, China or Germany or elsewhere. Where do I belong in this world?

My father used to tell me „There are two missions you have in this world: First, get to know the places in this world. Secondly, find your own place“. So, I ventured out into the world. I still don’t know much…