Chronicles of a Limerent Object
1. He hadn’t meant to idealise her, to put her on a pedestal, to overwhelm. Radiant, she was. She drew people in, shook their hands, pulled up chairs for them. Are you the organiser? she’d…
1. He hadn’t meant to idealise her, to put her on a pedestal, to overwhelm. Radiant, she was. She drew people in, shook their hands, pulled up chairs for them. Are you the organiser? she’d…
An old ritual. Folded letters. A river that remembers. Two lives drift within the same small town until winter carries their paper promises back to shore. 1 — The Habit There are habits that are…
The lighthouse had stood for a hundred years, watching storms tear across the horizon. Elias, the last keeper, lived alone inside its spiraling stone heart. Every night, he climbed the narrow stairs, lit the lamp,…
The river town of Maravelle was never loud, never hurried. The air always smelled faintly of jasmine and salt, and the days blended into evenings with a kind of peaceful surrender. For the locals, it…
The air smelled of rain and lilacs that morning. The streets of Verona were still glistening from last night’s storm, and the café on Via della Luna opened its doors with the same quiet rhythm…