What you’ll find here are traces, thoughts, fractures, and gaps. Not a finished picture, but a fabric woven from attempts, memories, and possibilities. Maybe you’ll spot a pattern. Maybe you’ll get lost. Maybe you’ll find yourself. Or something entirely different.
It was no great encounter, no fate announcing itself. It began in a room that smelled of spilled beer, with voices louder than they needed to be. I remember flickering lights, music from a cheap speaker – and her. She moved right through it all, as if the noise did not touch her but...
The next morning, as he sipped his coffee, he wrote as he always did. First the time, then the first words, still flickering. While he wrote, details returned, as if the paper itself drew them out. What else had been there? Himself. A friend. Guards. An agent. A wo...
Sometimes I wonder why I write at all. Certainly not for algorithms or applause. I search for honesty and despise compromise. When I write, I am truthful. But when I speak, I speak in compromises. I talk to someone – maybe they listen, maybe they understand me, maybe not. So...
It happened casually, almost by accident. A voice, a sentence about a fly in the margarine. So banal it could easily have been missed. And yet that was exactly where something began that had long seemed out of reach: a conversation. Not a planned one, not a forced on...
A trace of pride pulls him down,
the good man never wears a frown.
No sorrow felt, no grief, no pain,
at the final hour – what will remain?
The night devours the clock, and I let it happen. The streets shine, wet from rain, as if someone had just scrubbed the stage clean. The neon flickers as if it cannot believe it is still burning. I take a deep breath: smoke. Perfume. Cold sweat and cheap gin. To my...
...but we do set some. Some are necessary to let this site breathe. All others open doors to worlds beyond, such as a YouTube video. Yet every door you open is a decision only you can make.
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