I've lived in Amsterdam for several years now, and it still surprises me. There's something about a city built on water that keeps it from feeling permanent — everything is a little precarious, a little improvised, and all the better for it.
I grew up between Moscow and various other places, which gave me an early taste for the particular pleasure of feeling slightly out of place wherever you are. I've since decided this is not a problem to be solved but a state to be enjoyed.
I speak English, Russian, French, and Italian — which means I can be lost in four different languages across most of Europe. Travel for me is less about ticking off destinations and more about the strange conversations you only have when you're somewhere you don't quite belong.
Outside of ceramics, stained glass, and silversmithing — which have their own page — I cook a lot, read constantly, and spend more time than I should thinking about interior design for apartments I don't yet own.
I also teach ceramics, which turns out to be one of the most satisfying things I do. There's something deeply rewarding about helping someone else discover patience through clay.
Usually three books at once: something on AI ethics or philosophy of mind, a novel in a language I'm trying not to forget, and something entirely unrelated to any of it — lately a lot of architecture history and natural dye techniques.