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Song of the Crooked Tree

Kael hated this tree. The old elm his teacher, Elias, dragged into the workshop wasn’t a material-it was an insult. Its trunk ran crooked, twisting as if in a death spasm. Dark, almost black knots stared back like blind eyes. Deep fissures split the bark like scars. For a week Kael had tried to carve a falcon from it. In his mind it had to be the...

Ctrl+Alt+Del

You don't exist. What you call "I" is a pirated assembly of other people's ideas about success, installed on your factory hardware back in childhood. Clumsy, with broken drivers, but with a full suite of office programs: "Be convenient," "Don't stand out," "What will people say?" Your parents, out of immense, panicked love, were the first system...

"I am an explorer describing what I see. Each text here is a mirror reflecting one facet of human experience; one ray of light falling at a particular angle. This is not the ultimate truth nor a universal diagnosis. There are no final answers here. Only an invitation to reflect."

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