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.
What is a dream? Perhaps not a place we enter at night, but a language we have forgotten. A grammar of images that refuse to be unambiguous. Sometimes they tell us nothing about the past, but about a possibility that has not yet been decided.
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?
“Grandpa, tell me… are you actually grown-up?”
The old man laughed softly, shook his head. His gaze drifted away, as if searching for a memory that had slipped beyond his reach.
“That’s a strange question. From the outside, it may look that way. I’ve...
...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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