WHO
You can call me Avery.
At least that’s what I call my soul. Should souls have a name?
Perhaps I merely need to call it something. So Avery it is.
I am not human. A mortal, I am. But not a human; a mortal whose soul is slipping away — little by little.
I make proses and poetry.
I study philosophy and I read. Sure, I read books most of the time. However, I read people just as equally.
A language that compels me is blasphemy. I speak it rather fluently. And Italian, but who doesn’t?
I love tulips. The colour burgundy. Pebbles. Wine. Oracles.
I am 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 it’s 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 responsibly!
Lady Avery 