alisamiroshnichenko

I think I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember — not because I dreamed of becoming a writer, but because I simply couldn’t not write.

As a student, I sent my short stories to the university newspaper-small, tender pieces about people, about how they live, feel, and marvel at life. Later, my words turned toward the body — toward beauty and the quiet dialogue between the outer and the inner. Even then, I knew: I wasn’t really writing about skin. I was writing about being human — about fear and tenderness, about our endless search for harmony.

When I became a mother, everything grew clearer. I wanted to tell my children about the body — not as in a textbook, but as in a story, where cities and heroes live within us, where the heart speaks to the brain,
and emotions have names and personalities.

That’s how Tymian was born — a boy who one day finds himself inside his own body and begins to uncover its mysteries. Each chapter of his journey is a step toward understanding, a quiet conversation between a child and life itself.

This book is my way of weaving together science and wonder, curiosity and care, reason and heart. Writing, for me, has never been a choice — it’s a form of breathing, a way to speak gently about what truly matters.

I didn’t decide to become a writer; I simply realized one day that I had been one all along.

Now I continue to write new stories — about the body, about feelings, about a world where science and magic walk hand in hand. Because I believe that children’s books can do more than teach — they can remind us how extraordinary it is to be alive.