

About ExGeo
Exgeo is an independent publishing studio with a mission to explore stories, forgotten voices, and deeper meanings.
Where ExGeo begins
ExGeo began with a name.
My father was known as il Geo, “the Geo”, because he was a geometra: a surveyor, builder, and entrepreneur who spent his life reading land, drawing plans, measuring spaces, and turning ideas into real places where people could live.
He was also one of the most capable and positive people I have ever known.
He believed things could be built. He believed things could go well. He moved through life with a kind of practical optimism that was never naïve, but deeply active: the optimism of someone who knows that a plan, a direction, and enough courage can change the shape of reality.
ExGeo is dedicated to him. I like to believe he would have been proud of it, not only of the books, the journals, or the name, but of the courage to build something from an idea and make it real.
In Latin, ex carries the meaning of “from” or “out of”. Exgeo was born from that idea: from Geo, from the person I come from, and from the way he helped shape my sense of direction.
From the one who helped shape the way I look at the world.
At first, ExGeo was meant to be a simple publishing label: a way to give my own books a clearer home, instead of leaving them only under the broad umbrella of self-publishing.
But as the idea grew, I began to understand that ExGeo was not only a label. It was becoming a map.
My work has always been built on research, symbols, and metaphor. Nothing is ever only what it seems. Beneath a story there is always another layer: a question, an image, a wound, a path, a possible transformation.
This has been true in my fiction, but also in my work with language, psychology, and therapeutic metaphor. Through my studies in NLP, my degree in psychology, and my clinical practice, I have always been drawn to the way stories and images can help us understand ourselves more deeply.
A metaphor can open a door.
A story can carry what is difficult to say directly.
A book, a planner, a journal, or a forgotten voice can become a way of finding direction.
At the centre of ExGeo is the compass.
What began as a publishing label slowly became a wider map: a place for fiction, journals, forgotten voices, and symbolic reflection. Each path is different, but all of them return to the same idea: that stories, images, and carefully made objects can help us find direction.
For a man who worked with maps, measures, land, and points of reference, this feels deeply right. ExGeo takes that language of orientation and carries it into another kind of territory: stories, ideas, inner landscapes, and the search for meaning.