Suizi is a former journalist. Now works in media. She still pay attention the same way — to what happens at the edges of things.
She write about movement — across cities, languages, and identities.
Her interests sit somewhere between diaspora and detail: how culture travels, how music carries memory, how distance rearranges belonging.
I am drawn to places and people that do not rush past the world but move through it.
Zomia — that idea of upland spaces beyond the reach of the state.
Sinn Sisamouth — voice carried through loss and erasure.
Roberto Bolaño — writers wandering across continents and failures.
Bruce Chatwin — restlessness turned into method.
I am often pulled toward the margins of maps: small stations, provincial towns, borderlands, training grounds, immigrant kitchens. The details that feel peripheral but hold the texture of a place.
Unlike American trains that were absorbed in an intense destiny of their own, and scornful of people on another world less swift and breathless, this train was part of the country through which it passed. Its breath stirred the dust from the palm leaves, the cinders mingled with the dry dung in the gardens. Rosemary was sure she could lean from the window and pull flowers with her hand.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night