My name is Anna, and I have always described myself through actions rather than labels. I am thirty-two, I work as an editor, and for years I have been collecting other people's stories — sometimes gently, sometimes without mercy. I live in a small apartment with too many books and one very opinionated cat, and I like the kind of evenings when nothing happens and nobody expects anything from you❤🙈

I used to think relationships were about finding the right person — someone who would finally understand me without explanation. Now I think they are about the slow, unglamorous work of staying. People are not puzzles to be solved but weather to be lived through: they change, they disappoint, they surprise you on a Tuesday when you had already decided what they were

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My dream is simple and difficult at the same time: to write a book that makes a reader fall silent for a moment and look out the window. Not a loud one, not a sensational one — just an honest one. I want someone to find it in a secondhand bookshop in ten years, read the last page, and feel understood

My hobbies are quiet ones. I photograph old courtyards and abandoned buildings, looking for beauty where people have stopped noticing it. I bake sourdough bread, mostly out of stubbornness, because my first loaf came out flat as a brick. And I keep a notebook of phrases I overhear by chance — on buses, in queues, at the next table — because characters are born from them

Most of my conflicts came from silence. I waited for others to guess, and then I punished them for guessing wrong. I am learning to say the difficult sentence out loud, early, before it hardens into resentment. Closeness is not merging. It is standing next to someone without taking away their air, and letting them see you without flinching