speculative musings about what could be.
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away to storm-grounds
leena struggles to recall the sigil to storm-grounds… scrunching their eyes, leena queries internally, questing in memory, fingers curled remembering patterns.
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tanya hopes.
tanya needs secrets as you need a morning coffee, an afternoon tea, or an evening run.
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conforming
twisting trajectories
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unforgotten lands
i am summoned.
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dal: researcher, stitcher
mood piece for a game i'm making
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ghosting mona
wondering about the ontological consequences of ghosts still being people, mona keeps gliding to their meeting place.
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punching sparrow
what did they do, after waltzing, in those days long gone?
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repetitive stress
an evolving quintain
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they know
will they teach their offspring their skills?
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people of translations
i am well mother. where are we?
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Mona
For Mona is pretty sure he's a ghost.