“She doesn’t remember for herself.
She remembers because the world forgets too easily —
and she knows silence isn’t safety.”

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✦ A prelude to a story not yet born — but already watching.

“This is not yet a book.
It is a gaze — waiting, between memory and wind.”

This is not the tale of a hero.
It is the path of someone who forgot they could see —
and must now learn how to look again.

The Eye of the Hawk is not a weapon.
It is a memory too clear to ignore,
a truth that doesn’t scream,
but lingers behind silence.

This story lives in fragments.
Sometimes written in ink, sometimes carved in breath.
If you’re here, perhaps you’ve felt it already —
in a sentence that stayed,
in a stillness that wouldn’t go.

This space will grow as the story finds its shape.

Here you’ll find:
• Glimpses from the manuscript in progress
• Quiet thoughts from the writer’s path
• Echoes that might resemble your own

You are welcome to wait with us.

Until then — let the eye remain open.

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