I was too young to understand the word “displacement,” but old enough to feel its weight land.
It was the summer of 1995. My parents had decided to visit Palestine, with my grandmother. I was a teenager - equal parts curious, aloof, and callous in that naive, rebellious way. Home to me was Amman - my parents were born there. I was born there. What had happened in 1948 felt far away, like it belonged to another time, another generation.
Until we stood across the street, under the shade of an olive tree, staring at the house my grandmother had been forced to leave. It was now occupied. And everything shifted.
I remember feeling this awful heaviness, like a rock in my chest. Everything seemed to stand still, like I was watching a scene unfold from outside my own body. My grandmother - strong and resilient, rarely emotional - crumbled into a heap on the ground. I’d never seen her like that.
This wasn’t just about politics, or history, or real estate. It was about identity. About the way we anchor ourselves to place - not for luxury, but for grounding.
Home, I realised in that moment, is a feeling.
And, based on my own experience - it can exist in more than one place.
That moment changed me.
And whether I knew it or not, it set the tone for everything I’d later build.
Nine cities, twenty-something moves, two design degrees, a fine art practice, and a couple of personal turning points later...
It was sometime in 2017. Late at night, scribbling loose ideas in the small studio I’d rented in Dubai, I wrote the words “In habitat.”
I didn’t know exactly what it would become, but I knew what it felt like:
A place to explore the intersection of art and interiors. And how they could come together to make people feel aligned in their homes. A practice rooted in identity, beauty, and personal alignment. All-encompassing way to live. Way to live immersed in your surroundings.
That’s where the business began, not in a polished deck or investor pitch.
In a moment. Scribbled. Raw. Quietly certain.
The idea sat with me and simmered.
It would take a few more years - a couple more moves and a few key decisions - to bring it to focus.
But when I did, I knew it wouldn’t be just about making pretty spaces.
Because the people I work with - founders, executives, high performers - are already building incredible lives. But their homes often lag behind.
They don’t need another Pinterest board. They need someone who can listen deeply and reflect their identity, lifestyle, and values back to them through the space they live in.
They need momentum.
And design, when done right, creates that.
Through Inhabitat, I help people feel at home - wherever that home may be.
I combine interior architecture, art curation, and design strategy to transform houses into reflections of who people really are. And I do it through a principle method I’ve honed over years:
It’s not just a process. It’s a philosophy.
Because when your home is aligned, your life is too.
It’s about more than function or furniture.
It’s about meaning.
I’ve had a client burst into tears (the good kind) walking into the bedroom we created for her sons in their new home.
She was going through a divorce, trying to give her children a sense of safety and joy in both places they’d now call home.
That moment wasn’t about a design detail.
It was about emotional impact.
I’ve seen people go from scattered to grounded.
From stuck to clear.
From living around things they inherited, to being surrounded by things they chose.
And when I trace it all back, I realise my grandmother’s story - and my own zigzag through cities - was never just about geography.
It was about a search for meaning, rhythm, and belonging.
A world where people - especially those who live global, high-performing, cross-cultural lives - feel anchored.
Where home isn’t a postcode or a purchase.
It’s a personal ecosystem.
I want to build a boutique practice that stays sharp, focused, and soulful.
One that balances creativity with clarity.
One that shows you don’t need to choose between elegance and ease, or between art and strategy.
Because design, when done with intention, is how we honour where we’ve been, and step boldly into what’s next.
A container for our past.
A stage for our present.
A launchpad for what’s next.
Think about the spaces you spend the most time in.
Do they tell your story?
Do they support the version of you you’re becoming?
If not, I’d love to help you change that.
