I'll name this channel later

I dreamed a thousand new paths to set my soul free of the things that are slowly turning me into ashes….things that I loved so deeply that I can’t even see their roots anymore.…things that burn my body with passion and grief at the same damn time. But I wake up and repeat the same old path that stopped growing flowers long ago.

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There is a peculiar weariness in losing an illusion you already knew was false. You mourn it, feel ashamed for mourning it, then grow tired even of the shame. The cruel part is not that dreams die. It is knowing some quiet part of you saw the ending from the beginning and still chose to believe.

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What is truly great never belongs to us. beauty, freedom, even happiness they pass through our hands like light. And still we close our fists.

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All my life, my heart has sought a thing I cannot name. Remembered line from a long- forgotten poem

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Maybe the strangest thing about loving someone is how much of them eventually lives inside your own head. We call it a bond, which makes it sound like something stretched between two people, some invisible rope with a knot at either end. But I’m not sure it works that way. After enough time, especially after distance, you begin to notice that the person you miss is partly a collection of things you have kept, the wa…

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My day is done, and I lie like a weary boat drawn gently onto the shore, while the evening tide sings its restless music and dances beneath the fading light

Once, we dreamed we were strangers. Then we awoke and discovered that...

The auditor from the Department of Observable Reality adjusted his spectacles, although they contained no lenses. This was not an affectation. Affectations were prohibited under Section Nine, Subsection Four, except on ceremonial occasions and during budget negotiations. “You are proposing,” he said, “that imagination is structurally necessary.” The old woman across the desk considered this. She had been summoned a…

“A child is born,” she said, “into a world already crowded with explanations. The adults point at objects and give them names. Tree. Door. Mother. Danger. Tuesday. The child accepts most of this with astonishing patience.” “Names correspond to things.” “Sometimes. There is no Tuesday growing behind the moon.” “Tuesday is a unit of time.” “So is childhood, but no one agrees when it ends.” The auditor tapped his p…

Most of these beliefs were harmless. Some founded empires. A few saved lives. The difficulty was that they all entered through the same door. “How do you distinguish a sustaining illusion from a destructive one?” he asked. “Badly.” “That is not reassuring.” “No. Reassurance is another fantasy.” The auditor closed the file, then opened it again because closing files without resolution was frowned upon, while l…

The temptation has always been to imagine reality as something hidden behind the world, as though truth required another landscape concealed beneath the one already encountered. Yet concealment often begins with this very expectation. In searching beyond what stands before us, attention quietly abandons the richness of what has already entered its field. Distance is invented where none was required. The unseen become…

"Thus 'phenomenology' means αποφαινεσθαι τα φαινομενα to let that which shows itself be seen from itself in the very way in which it shows itself from itself." Every age inherits a manner of looking that soon forgets it is only a manner. What first arose as an encounter gradually hardens into habit, until the world no longer arrives but merely confirms what has already been decided. Things are received less for what …