The unseen, the hesitant pull of my hand, a vault meant to store my briefest thoughts. A book of short stories, proses, and litera-fied thoughts-all in love for the ink I never spilled.

A pile of unheard screams, adoration, and whirring thoughts. A voyage to find myself. A tribute to my lost soul. The prompts-the poems enough to dose and douse a reverie.