Once upon a time, a question from somewhere deep asked itself to me: If you could do anything with this brief and wondrous life, be your freest self, what would you do, and where would you be? Finding the answer didn’t take long: I swiftly decided to collect passport stamps, stolen kisses, unforgettable conversations between champagne sips like I do songs and books. And I settled on NYC, home of the ambitious and artistic, rebellious and refined.   

Nowadays, my duality exists in perfect harmony: I am half librarian, half libertine. I collect biography books and toys that make airline security blush. My urbane veneer belies a Rockwellian, Midwestern upbringing that traces back to a colorful town in southern Africa. Many mornings I frequent farmers' markets for fresh flowers and produce. And just as easily, I jet off to parts unknown, eager to taste the unexplored and (oftentimes) unpronounceable. Equal parts sugar and spice, my mezzo soprano voice lilts melodically through accents. And I'm known to break into song with perfect pitch at a moment's notice. I know countless songs, and I hold even more secrets. These days, I choose my food, travel destinations, and companions with care and a bend towards the intimate and inspiring. 

But what about you–what would you do given permission to simply be yourself, freely? You must have an inkling if you’ve found me here. Sometimes that looks like working tirelessly to best your last success, being as impressive as everyone expects you to be. And sometimes it looks like throwing off the mundane and tedious. Dusting off that forgotten bucket list. Reacquainting yourself with pleasure. Traveling in good company in comfortable silence, or experiencing the elusive electricity that is only found when eyes meet across a dimly lit dinner table for two. Or at least it should…

Life is for living; let’s do it well.