A warm, amber-lit window seat with stacked books, rain streaking the leaded glass panes, a cozy interior against the cool blue of dusk outside

The Windowsill

writings  ·  finds  ·  small beautiful things

... sit. read something. there's no rush ...

✦ Come in from the Rain

This is the windowsill — the ledge between indoors and out, between finished and half-remembered, between the world that exists and the one that almost does. Pull up a cushion. The rain won't reach you here.

You'll find original writing, things curated from across the web, and a door into Coraverd'e — a whole other city that doesn't exist yet but is trying its best to.

✦ The Shelf

📖 Short Fiction Stories that don't fit anywhere else, and are better for it. Being Written
🌙 Poetry Short-form work. Some of it knows what it is. Some doesn't yet. Being Written
🕯️ Essays Longer thoughts. Things I had to think through out loud. Gathering
💭 Fragments Unfinished things. Beginnings. Notes that became half of something. Accumulating
🔮 Found Objects Things I found on the internet that live rent-free in my head. Ongoing
🌿 Coraverd'e → A whole other city behind this door. Solarpunk Chicago. Enter. Portal Open

✦ Things I Brought In

Writing, art, and internet corners that got under my skin. No algorithm chose these.

✦   Nothing brought in yet. The search continues.   ✦

Through the window ↓
Coraverd'e

A Solarpunk Chicago that never was and might still be. Novellas, flash fiction, poetry, interactive fiction. A city with geography and weather and people who argue about things that matter. It is growing.

Enter the world →