Picture this: You’re in a dream, seated in an ornate concert hall with burgundy velvet seats and golden baroque molding that seems to breathe with the music. A stranger approaches, apologetic – you’re in their seat. You stand, move aside, and exchange a brief glance of mutual acknowledgment. The moment passes. You wake. Somewhere else,…
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Often, I think about our effort at permanence – how we construct cities, nations, and entire civilizations as though they were eternal fixtures rather than brief arrangements of matter in an indifferent cosmos. There’s something both terrifying and liberating in contemplating the immense scale of time, in recognizing that Earth spins not just on its…
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There is a sadness in the pursuit of becoming. This melancholy blooms not as a sharp ache from a sudden loss, but more as a slow dissolution of esteemed bonds that once seemed shatterproof. The anguish arrives quietly while you are occupied in the trenches; it unpacks softly, never making a sound that alerts you…
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There is a brief, unsettling moment when you wake up from a dream and still don’t know who you’re meant to be. Both the wakeful and dream worlds are equally true in that liminal space. The pillow you’re holding and the lover who just left your arms have the same ontological weight. No less real…
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