Who Cares? Coz I Don’t.

In my more than two decades as a journalist, I’ve had the privilege of meeting countless well-known figures—politicians, celebrities, thinkers who have shaped our world in meaningful ways. For many, this might be a dream come true, an opportunity to get up close with the icons whose faces and stories fill our screens and headlines. But for me, this has never felt like a big deal. The truth is, I don’t believe in being starstruck.

To me, each person I meet is just that—a person. An autograph? I’ve never asked for one, nor do I have the urge to. Modesty aside, I see such things as another form of vanity, a trinket to admire or display, as if to prove, “I was there, I met this person.” That’s not what my work is about. It’s not why I became a journalist. I don’t want my career to be about collecting names or brushing shoulders with fame. Instead, I want it to be about storytelling, about sharing insights and understanding that extend beyond the individuals themselves.

I’ve never kept track of the famous people I’ve met, nor do I intend to. I don’t need a list to remind me of the moments that have meant the most. What I carry with me are not autographs or photos but the conversations, the words that reveal something true, the stories that demand to be told. It is in these moments that I find my purpose—seeking the human element within the public figure, the untold story behind the image. In doing so, I feel I’ve achieved something far more meaningful than a signature ever could.