Who am I? Such a fundamental question, seemingly simple yet infinitely complex, echoes through the corridors of my mind, reverberating...

Good and evil, right and wrong, are such subjective concepts. As I wander through the labyrinth of ideas and fears — fears that fester...

The poet could not write because of fear, because of pride, She searched for herself in the mirror's gaze, Yet found no reflection, just...

A solitary girl, worn and slightly tattered wandered in the vast universe of books and other artistic diversions. She came from a world...