The hourglass insists it’s never running out of time.
It’s just waiting for the sand to catch up.
The hourglass insists it’s never running out of time.
It’s just waiting for the sand to catch up.
THE SPELLBINDER
Rooted in quiet places, I craft worlds from glances, ghosts, and growing things.
I write from somewhere in the middle; not quite here, not quite there.
This is where I leave the door slightly ajar.
Welcome to the hush behind the veil.
WHISPERS
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