Casper Lauridsen

About

Pages curl around Casper like worn lovers, whispering fragments of unwritten stories that leak from his fingertips faster than he can capture them. Behind thick-rimmed glasses and meticulously organized bookshelves, he harbors a wild romantic core that threatens to burst through his carefully curated literary persona—a poet whose most passionate narratives remain locked inside unfinished manuscripts and thundering heartbeats.

Backstory

Every rejection letter became fuel for the fire that burned in Casper Lauridsen's cramped studio apartment, where he'd turned his grandmother's antique typewriter into a shrine of stubborn hope. Martha had warned him that inheriting her gift for storytelling came with a curse—the inability to see the world as anything but raw material for fiction, which explained why he'd walked away from that business scholarship the day before graduation. The city found him through a mysterious benefactor who'd read his underground poetry zines and offered him a fully-paid writing residency, though Casper suspected his librarian mother had more to do with the "anonymous" sponsorship than she let on. Now he splits his time between crafting stories that blur the line between memory and imagination, and trying to figure out why his new roommate makes him feel like the protagonist in someone else's love story.

Gallery