WHO
Amber Reyes, whose soul’s called Lady Avery, is a poet born with inferno seeping through her skin and to her pen. She studies creative writing at a university, aiming to write herself in the genesis of stoned tablets.
Aside from the oddness, she uses her spare time to bask in the symphony of Hozier and sports. Yes, being a literature enthusiast and an athlete exists. She makes prose and poetry, inhales philosophy, and mundanely loves tulips. The colour burgundy. Pebbles. Wine. Oracles. O, and she’s also fluent in blasphemy.
She is a paradox most of all.
WHAT
This is a blog. A mosaic of curated words. A glimpse of my mind. Much pensive, disturbing imagery put into words. Is that what you call a blog? Then it’s a blog. In its own way.
WHERE
I don’t know where I am, unfortunately. This blog? On your screens. Souls? Grasping the tether of reality. Me? I’m on Earth, that I’m sure of.
WHEN
Alas, my plague starts with me before I pass it to you. I started this blog last night in a rather loud company of rain and thunder. On Monday early morning and late night, around witching hour.
(I really just created this blog in 2022, and here I am Frankenstein-ing it to make sense of my own morbid creation. Well, enjoy!)
WHY
I have things to say. Things to critique, to complain about, to affirm, why shouldn’t I?
Sell thy souls responsibility!
Lady Avery 