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Eva was born in a magical land where adorable faeries and handsome sprites come alive for those who believe in make-believe and dreams come true. Her first recollections were of being lulled to sleep by a whispering watermill as it ground grain into flour; songbirds singing vociferously in flowering Springtime leaves; humming honeybees collecting nectar from daffodils, bluebell, crocus, and gladiolus; gleeful shouts of children swimming in the creek athwart the fence across the way.
In stark contrast to her charming birthplace, Eva lived a nomadic lifestyle for nearly ten years as a child. Her home was her parent’s dilapidated car, Blue Betsy, and the rare one-month rental. Still, she had powerfully memorable adventures, perhaps explaining why she is now an adventuresome risk-taker who cannot stay put in one place for more than a blink of an eye.
Deaf at the age of fifteen from an illness that left her in a coma for three weeks, Eva’s ability to hark to nature’s sounds vanished forever. Never again would she hear laughter, echoes, crashes, splashes, or even her voice. Still, she learned to listen attentively to the careful aim of a quill, the thrust of a pencil, the stroke of a brush, the purpose of a carefully crafted line, and the molding of a skillfully bespoken sculpture. Henceforward, art and the written word became Eva’s music, their inspiring creators her maestros, their awesomeness her silent world’s hullabaloo.
Eva’s journalistic career began when she was nineteen. Her first assignment was investigating officials allegedly involved in an international human trafficking organization. Along with Cindy, her surrogate mother, mentor, and long-time friend, she pursued lead after lead. Eva ultimately volunteered to infiltrate the organization. Naïve, youthful, and untried, she placed her life in mortal danger. Fortunately, she escaped, but only with by the cunning of her intuition and karma.
Eva travels extensively, zipping around the world on assignments. She loves chitchat, and she enjoys posting her adventures. While some stories are Eva’s subjective experiences, she carefully authors her stories into pure fiction. She considers it irresponsible to do otherwise, to say things that are better off unsaid. Besides, Eva is a trite vulnerable, so her private world is sacrosanct.
Some refer to Eva as a mysterious, redheaded mystagogue, owing to her cloak of secrecy in a world of gaping openness. Nonetheless, she is persnickety and therefore faithful to all whom she befriends, always never forgetting to say, “I love you.” Because she does.
Those who know Eva know of her two passions: Writing and photography. Her photos speak for themselves. Concerning her writings, Eva has many published books and short stories on the shelf.