Stepping into Frida Kahlo’s Blue House is like entering the pulse of her life—color, pain, joy, and rebellion all beating together. Her art didn’t just reflect her world; it defied the one that tried to contain her. In those cobalt walls, you feel the dare she left behind: to live fully, without apology.

At Yale, I realized: you can’t just build something meaningful—you must also build the conditions for it to sustain itself outside coercive systems. That’s what we did with GCAS. And once it could stand on its own, thinking inside that space transformed—ideas and their economic foundation fused into one living, self-sustaining whole.

The winds at East Range were too strong, but in an elite airborne recon unit, you don’t question orders—you jump. I hit the ground hard, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure I’d walk again. That’s when I started reading for the first time in my life. Words, once stubborn enemies, became windows—opening worlds I didn’t know existed. That jump broke my body but set my mind free.