My story

I have been reading stories, the sky, and the body for as long as I can remember. I just didn't know, for a long time, that they were saying the same thing.

For as long as I can remember, I have been learning how to pay attention.

My father, a meteorologist, taught me to watch the atmosphere—to read clouds, weather systems, and the changing sky. My grandfather, a climatologist, deepened that way of seeing, showing me that patterns emerge only when we learn to look over time. I spent hours gazing upward, searching for answers beyond what I could yet explain.

My grandmother grounded me in a different language. A physical education teacher, she introduced me to anatomy, movement, and the body's quiet intelligence. Long before I encountered yoga or mindfulness, she taught me that the body is not separate from the mind, but another vessel for making meaning.

It took me many years to realize these were not different inheritances.

I was born in Belgrade, Serbia, and later made a home on the West Coast of the United States, in Seattle. Italy has long felt like a second home, and the coast of Istria is one of the places where I return to myself.

For more than a decade, I measured distance in transatlantic flights, traveling back and forth alone with my two young daughters. Somewhere between departures and arrivals, I learned that home is not always a place.

Living between countries, continents, languages, and cultures taught me that identity isn't fixed. I've stopped trying to resolve my in-betweenness.

It became my essence.

And literature became the one place where I always felt at home.

All my life, I have explored the question of how we become who we are through creative writing, literary research, astrology, and embodied practice. What began as separate disciplines gradually revealed themselves as different languages for listening to the same life.

Writing taught me to listen.

Yoga taught me to inhabit the body that was listening.

Astrology taught me to recognize larger patterns and cycles.

Academic research offered another language for exploring those same questions through philosophy, contemporary art, and literature.

Today, those paths continue to meet in my writing, research, teaching, and in The Body Writes, my evolving practice for listening to the stories our bodies, our lives, and the world are already telling.