VOID
From where nothing speaks.
the edge before form
This is where I come to nothing again.
Where writings don't perform, and language forgets itself.
Raw. Untouched. Unknowable. These writings do not seek applause or understanding. They emerge from the still, nameless center that watches, waits, and witnesses.
Some things don't end
They just reverberate differently.
2025
2025
2025
2025
2025
2025
2025
2024
2024
2024
2023