A Story?

Nothing here can tell you who I am, for who I am is beyond words. You may find crumbs– paintings; songs; stories; old photographs– and perhaps you will find me there. Perhaps you will find yourself.

I’ve been telling stories about who I am for as long as I can remember. At some point, I learned that to live by intuition was to be strange– wyrd. The world suggested another way: to construct a self, to shape it carefully, and to wear it until it became recognisable.

That self moved through the world. It achieved, it gathered, it became legible within the structures around it. I could list those things here. But they belong to the past. They are no longer alive.

The one writing this asks only that you look within, not without.

This site holds artefacts of time spent there.