Do you believe in magic? 

Let me take you to a place where the ground breathes, and everything we say is audible to the trees. A querry to the trees. I was resetting cadences to the low ocean hum. I was leaving pears and green apples on altars for ancestors. Glittering, Silvery threads.


What was I looking for in the end? Power, of course. Archaic and mythological, as all power is. Power to fight against the erasure of many peoples, with weapons that cannot be tracked on radars, and spells that cannot be shot down with missile systems.

Who I am is a story of a seed sprouting from sentiments of presque vu. 

I remember that I forgot. Something. But I could not remember what I forgot. 

There are silvery threads, an incomprehensible network interlacing every possibility, interlocking destiny to itself so that, intermingling with self.  

There, I stood gazing upon nothingness  are moments unfolding, or rather encircling. A story. A cosmic composition of ink that never quite settles, but is always drying. There are fabulous beings and wicked entities. There’s a journey ahead, tough decisions to make, you, me, all of us. There are silvery threads, an incomprehensible network interlacing every possibility, converging all roads, . There are fabolous beings and the depraved. 


Particuarly, revolutionary magic. 

 are sorcerers among us. A thin film of edifice we perceive as re
Portals of vague realities .. A cosmic composition of ink that never quite settles, but is always drying. “Teach me about magicThere are silvery threads, fabulous beings, and wicked entities. There’s a journey ahead, with tough decisions to make, and days submerged in grief. There are road converging. 

There are tough decisions to be made. A journey some place you cannot fathom. Fabulous beings, beasts of the  and wicked entities.  

There’s a story of a 

 There’s a group of people. Sorcerers. Witches. Fairies. Warlocks. 



Through my inquiries of magic I discovered something. It was a question that I couldn’t figure out. You can comm
At times, it’s as if my life could be carried away by a swift spring breeze - In which case, I am a dandelion seed parachuting into eternity, waiting for rain to lay me in soft soil again.
I use my powers to fight against the erasure of many peoples, with spells and weapons that cannot be tracked on radars, and cannot be shot down with missile system