There is a hush in violet, a pause before the prayer, where breath becomes bridge, and silence learns to speak. I’ve seen it shimmer at the edge of reason, a soft pulse between candlelight and...
Yellow has a way of finding the cracks,slipping through curtains and settling on the tablelike a quiet reminder that the world keeps shiningeven when you are tired of carrying the lantern. I have...
There’s something about a table. Whether it’s a kitchen table, a card table, or the round one in my séance chamber, it’s where stories happen. People sit, they listen, they lean in. The table becomes...
“You are not what I expected.” The lady paused outside the chamber for a brief chat. “What did you expect?” I replied, genuinely curious. “I thought you’d be more...
I can see you hovering there. Not quite sitting, not quite leaving. You’re doing that dance, the “I don’t know if I belong here” shuffle. It’s all right. Pull the chair out. It creaks a little, but...
The magician’s hand must be still before it moves. It’s a paradox most people never see. They see the motion but not the silence that makes it possible. A good magician knows that what the audience...
We like our stories to make sense. We crave the clean arc: struggle, growth, triumph wrapped up with meaning. But the truth is: life rarely grants us that clarity while we’re still living it. The...
I’ve spent most of my life on a stage; sharing stories, conjuring illusions, inviting audiences into moments of mystery. Onstage, breath is everything. It’s the pause before a revelation, the...
Today marks the thirty-third anniversary of my mother’s murder. It’s a sentence that still feels foreign in my mouth, even after all these years. Loss this sharp doesn’t dull, it just changes shape...