I've been trying to figure out
how to introduce myself.

The short version is: I'm a software engineer who's lived across eight cities in four years, who cares deeply about building safe AI.

But that doesn't capture it. Not really.

When I was twelve, I watched my mum take her last breath. She was a teacher. At her funeral, everyone wore bright colours because she wanted it to be a celebration. Her former students told me she was the only one who believed in them. That was her gift: not love alone, but the ability to make people feel capable and seen. She fought breast cancer for seven years. She showed me what it means to face any challenge with a bright smile.

Since then, I've carried one question: why did I get to stay? It sounds heavy. But 13 years on, the weight has transformed into an empowering compass that points me toward what matters most now.

After high school, I took a gap year and took on seven jobs in twelve months to find out how I can contribute to the real world. At a special needs school, I spent an hour teaching an 18-year-old how to squeeze toothpaste. I kept thinking: what if the tube was designed for him, not against him? That question changed the direction of everything that followed.

I co-founded Mental Health Collective with 4 friends, and we organised a mental health conference that 3,000 people showed up to. COVID hit halfway through planning. Everyone said cancel. We didn't. At the Ministry of Health, I helped move 40,000 patients through a system held together with spreadsheets and will.

So I learned.

At Minerva, my classroom moved every four months — Buenos Aires, Taipei, San Francisco, Seoul, Hyderabad, Berlin, London. Each city was a lab. I traced stories in DNA alongside cancer researchers. I shipped features for a hiking app used by 100,000 people. I met a chocolate maker whose biggest dream was a shop in New York. I wrote down how much it would cost. I still have that notebook page. One day I want to fund people with genuine, simple dreams like his.

I built an AI evaluation framework to measure where language models tell people what they want to hear instead of what's true. The finding: machines are most sycophantic about the things humans care about most — values, identity, belief. That finding still keeps me up at night.

I climb mountains. I draw. I practice yoga. I have a deep, sincere love for life, and I'm still figuring out the best vessel for it.

If you ask me what my superpower is: I can have a deep conversation and connect with anyone. I can bring people together and move them toward a common vision. I don't know what skill category that falls into. But I know it's the thread through everything I build. The best conversations I've had often started with a cold message.