After stepping away from the startup world, I found myself drawn to something more tangible—something grounded. Real estate wasn’t new to me, but the way I wanted to approach it was. I wasn’t interested in luxury towers or speculative flips. I was interested in cities that people often overlook. Places like Worcester, Everett, Fall River, and New Bedford.
These aren’t the markets that make national headlines. And that’s exactly why I care about them.
There’s real potential in these communities—potential that’s often dismissed because it doesn’t fit into a conventional investment narrative. But to me, they represent something more important: the opportunity to invest not just in buildings, but in neighborhoods, momentum, and long-term resilience.
“There’s untapped potential in these communities,” I often tell people. “It’s not about gentrification or flipping properties. It’s about supporting long-term, thoughtful growth.”
At BMF, the real estate firm I founded, we partner with local developers who understand the fabric of their cities. We’re not here to parachute in, build fast, and disappear. We’re here to collaborate—bringing capital, strategic insight, and a commitment to responsible development.
My background in engineering and finance helps here. I approach real estate the way I approached systems at MIT and AI Exchange—with curiosity and structure. I ask questions that go beyond the spreadsheet: How will this project impact the people who live nearby? Is it accessible, sustainable, and genuinely needed? Will it still add value 10 or 20 years from now?
That mindset shapes everything we do. It’s not just about the return—it’s about the ripple.
In a city like Fall River, a well-designed multi-family project isn’t just a property. It’s a chance to add housing where it’s needed most. In a place like New Bedford, revitalizing a mixed-use building can bring life back to a block that’s been quiet for years. These kinds of efforts don’t require a headline. They require patience, partnership, and presence.
I stay involved beyond the check. I review plans, walk sites, talk to local stakeholders. I want to know how the pieces fit together—not just financially, but socially. Who’s going to live here? Who’s going to work here? How will this project make the city stronger?
That’s not idealism. That’s just good design.
If there’s one thing my journey has taught me, it’s that real systems—whether they’re software platforms or city blocks—only work when they serve the people inside them. Real estate is no different.
We need more investment that listens. That adapts. That considers what already exists before deciding what should be added. Growth for the sake of growth leads to hollow results. But growth that’s rooted in context? That’s where the real opportunity lies.
There’s still a long way to go. Development is complex, and cities face real challenges. But I believe in showing up anyway. I believe in learning from the people who live there. I believe that thoughtful growth—especially in cities that have been underserved—is not only possible, but deeply necessary.
So no, you won’t find me chasing the next high-rise in downtown Boston. You’ll find me walking the streets of Worcester with a developer who’s lived there their whole life. You’ll find me supporting projects that respect history and aim for longevity. And you’ll find me investing in places that may not always be seen—but absolutely matter.
