Made in Madrid.
Engineer and writer. ADHD, Asperger's, gifted. Building things that close the gap between people and what they need.
The website came first, at six. Then Minecraft plugins at eight — Java, which I hated, but it was the first time I cared more about how the server worked than what I was building on top of it. The systems instinct was already there before I had a name for it. By thirteen: TypeScript and Discord bots. By the time I was a teenager I'd reached most of the technical foundations I still carry.
The CFGM in Microcomputer Systems and Networks (Sep 2024 – Jun 2026) is the formal credential. More paper trail than origin story.
Then burnout hit. A hard stop.
The homelab brought me back — started it in May 2025. Fixing real errors on real machines, with actual consequences, fixed something in me too. It still does.
Practice hours at Abalun — technically not employed, but pulled into real work fast enough that the line blurs. Good colleagues, real problems, a rhythm that doesn't grind. What it's mostly done is kill the impostor syndrome. Not therapy, not a book — just being thrown at actual problems and realising I could handle them. Turns out the impostor was the lie, not me.
Outside that: building independently, when my ADHD lands somewhere. Not always on a schedule. But when it hits, it hits hard.
Running most mornings. Madrid, for now.
The distance between people and what they need — information, calm, clarity, each other — is always smaller than it looks. Almost always a design problem.
A Staff Planner AI so the person running a team can stop carrying that weight in their head.
A Discord MCP Server so an AI can show up where your people already are.
Caynac and Maniac so a file, a song, something you wanted to share, actually gets there — regardless of what tools the other person has.
aPhone Mirroring so your own device stops gatekeeping your own life.
Dispatch so the world doesn't require you to go looking for it every morning.
A Personal Assistant that runs on your machine, answers to you, and doesn't send anything anywhere.
I build to close that gap. The dramatic arts draw me for the same reason: theatre doesn't create emotion — it removes the obstacle to it. Same work, different tools.
Writing isn't a creative ambition I'm working toward. It's how I think. I'm the kind of person who types out three paragraphs to understand what a single sentence is actually saying.
I want to write about whatever I'm currently trying to understand: systems architecture and why certain decisions feel inevitable in hindsight. Neurodivergence — not the clinical version, the lived one. The moments where a technical problem turns out to be an emotional one in disguise. The load-bearing parts of a person that don't show up in a résumé or a GitHub profile.
I don't write to have an audience. But if someone reads it and feels less alone in whatever they've been running quietly — that's the whole point.
Home in the truest sense — not the place I ended up, but the place that made me. The people I love most, I met here. The streets have context. The city has weight.
But I've started to feel the edges. Not the city itself — Madrid I could defend to anyone. Something in the rhythms, the assumptions, the way certain things are just accepted as given.
So yes, home. And yes, probably a chapter. Not because I'm running from anything — because I think I owe it to myself to find out what happens when I leave. Where? I don't know yet. I'll know it when I get there.