My Love… you blind the unready and seduce the bold. You are the omen before. You are the veil and the warning. A year spent orbiting each other’s madness and magic has forged us.
Read full post →There is a hunger that cannot be named. A craving to be seen beyond the surface—beyond the role, beyond the performance,
You are the living altar to your own becoming. Your spirit knows. It whispers through the fractures, the silences, the spaces between
We do not accept blame. We do not cradle guilt. We do not assign roles unless they are forged in consent, intention,
Alignment between feeling and appearance is sacred. Pretending all is fine for the sake of a social moment serves no one—it
Times feel heavy. The weight presses against your chest, against your mind, against your resolve. But know this: hardship is a passage,
Only the uninitiated call it fire manipulation. They want the magic, the transformation, the illumination—but they are unwilling to burn. Unwilling
I call forth the divine you. From beyond time and memory, I summon the power that resides within you to transmute into
Things That Make Me Feel Unsafe I do not walk into this blind. These are things that break trust, the fractures that
A year of image-making, writing, ritual, and practice — organized by month. Enter the Living Year archive and move through the work chapter by chapter.
Formspree submission
Complete the form and submit without leaving this page.