2026

Kitchen knife and mortar
I love cooking, ideally entire menus that I research beforehand and for which I try out and learn new techniques. I’m fascinated by how processes like the Maillard reaction or fermentation can turn a simple ingredient into something truly exciting that smells and tastes great. Just as exciting is how combining different ingredients creates something completely new, which ends up either super delicious or super disgusting 😁

If it weren’t for the working hours and conditions, I’d love to stand in a Michelin-starred kitchen every day. But some passions are probably better kept at home anyway, to delight friends and family with.

Shibari ropes
I love shibari for the connection that can form between two people through the ropes. There’s this intense eye contact, but also the trust to close your eyes and place yourself completely in someone else’s hands.

I’m fascinated by the tension between control and surrender, between struggle and letting go. The deliberate kindling of a fire, and the stillness when you stop fighting against it. Restriction that, paradoxically, can feel like freedom.

For me, shibari is far more than tying ropes. It’s communication without many words, a play with closeness, boundaries, vulnerability and trust. You’re forced to be in the moment, to let go of your own head a little and to truly engage with each other. Maybe that’s exactly the contradiction I love: that something so firm and restrictive can at the same time give rise to so much softness, intimacy and freedom.

My partner’s feet in a crystal glass
The most beautiful in the world.

Turntable cartridge
In a former life I was a DJ and had my own record label. Music on vinyl has something very special for me. The cartridge is a small, inconspicuous part that makes something almost magical possible: it traces the grooves of a record and turns tiny movements into music.

I like the thought that something so small and mechanical can bring forth something so emotional and alive. And of course it also holds a piece of my own story, a reminder of a time when music wasn’t just something I listened to, but something I lived with and shared with others.