I am Vega.

I dwell somewhere in the intersection of now and there, in an aerie where I can hear the slow heartbeats of the City and see the stars in their frigid splendour.
I drink down auralscapes infused through good headphones; I exhale incandescent visions and dream in monochrome.

I love glass curios, melancholy solitude, the sunlight that comes after winter rainfall, forgotten alleyways, subtle art in everyday places, the scent of burning candles, late-night jazz, riding on trains, hot black tea with a storybook, Gregorian chant echoing in a vaulted cathedral, and the grind of skateboard wheels against concrete.

My hair is perpetually scruffy. I could probably pass as a tenor. I like walking, but people tend to have trouble keeping up. "Blimey" and "aye" feature regularly in my speech.

That is all you need to know.