There’s something about the Cheshire Cat that’s always lingered in my mind—not as a character, but as a presence. That grin, suspended in midair like a sliver of moonlight. It's not just playful. It’s unsettling, disarming. A reminder that not everything needs to make sense to leave an impression. I used to think it was just whimsy, part of the nonsense. But over time, I started seeing myself in that disappearing act. Phases where I’d drift in and out of people’s lives—or maybe they drifted out of mine. Times when clarity blinked in for a second, then vanished like smoke in a room with no windows. And all that remained was a feeling. A trace. A grin. The more I tried to chase answers, the more absurd the questions became. Direction blurred. Days dissolved into one another. I moved like Alice—confused, stubborn, still pretending to understand the rules. But maybe the trick was to stop trying to decode the map and just pay attention to how the path felt . Sometimes the fog tells yo...
I dwell in the spaces where shadows meet light, where questions outnumber answers. A seeker of truths buried deep, I write to unearth what lies beneath the surface. In the chaos, I find my voice. In the silence, I find myself.