Wonderland came from a period where I was learning to trust my inner world as much as the outer one.
Many of these songs began as private moments at the piano — attempts to understand feelings I didn’t yet have language for. Love, loneliness, hope, frustration, imagination — they all lived side by side. Over time, those fragments began to feel connected, like rooms in the same emotional landscape. Wonderland became the name for that space. Not an escape from reality, but a way of navigating it. A place where feeling deeply and thinking creatively weren’t separate things.
At that point in my life, music was more than expression... it was orientation. A way to make sense of change, of growing pains, of wanting more from life without fully knowing what “more” meant yet. The album’s sense of colour, scale and movement reflects that feeling of being in transition — stepping into bigger emotions, bigger questions, and a bigger sense of self.
Wonderland holds a version of me who was discovering that imagination isn’t a distraction from real life... it’s a tool for moving through it. A reminder that even when experiences are messy or painful, there is still beauty in shaping them into something you can hear, hold, and share. This album marks the moment music stopped being just something I made, and became the world I live inside.