You haven’t subscribed yet, but perhaps you’re meant to. This space is made of essays, poems, and art that linger in the existential drift—of feeling, of thought, of what couldn’t be resolved. It’s quiet here, but not empty. Melancholy is the undercurrent, yes, but so is attention—careful, insistent, and often unsettling. If you value the reflective over the reactive, the slow burn over the spark, I think you’ll find something worth staying for.
