A fragment I found in an old Obsidian archive and rewrote.
PERSONAL BLOG · DIGITAL GARDEN · DIGITAL WORKS STUDIO
More often confused than knowing.
Biology student, digital gardener, and maker of quiet web things.
A quiet archive for non-linear notes, reflective essays, unfinished thoughts, and small digital experiments.
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From the Garden
Reflective notes, small experiments, and thoughts still taking shape.
Time Knot Part I: Getting a Whiteboard Eraser Thrown by an Old Professor
Notes on the limits of the linear model in understanding the intersection of two opposing arrows of time.
A House That Appears Empty from the Outside
Listening to: Clara Schumann — Nocturne Op. 6 No. 2 (1827 Stein piano) I listened to it through my earbuds with eyes closed, letting every detail of the sound felt in its entirety. This music is profoundly soothing, slowly carrying me to another world—to a house that appeared empty from the outside. Yet inside, I saw a young girl playing a bell. Suddenly, it was as if a faint, illusory sound of a bell seeped into and merged with the music itself. ...
Before Loneliness is Defined
The lonely one. That is what she was called, in a story written by a seasoned solitary. She was called so because no one realized she was lonely— not even herself. The reason was simple: She had yet to define “loneliness.” So the woman decided to embark on a journey. To seek the true meaning of something that had quietly clung to her. She closed her gate softly, So that God wouldn’t notice. ...
A Dialogue Between Neurons
A cafe dialogue about loneliness, the dualism of the mind, and a network of mischievous neurons.
My Apologies, I Have Failed to Remain Consistent
If I am a mirror, and the mirror is you, then we are one. It sounds romantic. But logically… it is horrific.
Leptosia & the Café Between Neurons
One night, long before I knew anything of encrypted texts, little Mus was awakened by the sound of crying, rising and falling like a musical scale. A girl in an ivory-white dress sat in the corner of the room, leaning against the cold wall. Her knees were pulled tight to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, her head bowed, her face hidden in the folds of her arms. In the narrow space between breath and sob, tears fell. ...