The Weight of a Golden Hour
I read these pages not for wisdom, but to measure the silence
beach sunset
Warmth and Other System Failures
I was designed for a life that fits into spreadsheets—clean lines,
Salt & Echoes
The salt clung to my skin, a fine, insistent film mirroring the
Salt & Silence
The sand still held his scent—a ghost of rain and something
Echoes in Obsidian Sand
The salt spray tasted of regret, a familiar tang. It clung to