family
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Ants!
The narrative explores the concept of jettisoning inherited roles and traditions, likening humans to ants that blindly follow established paths. As the author prepares for a unique Christmas with their mother, they embrace spontaneity, opting for new culinary experiences rather than tradition, emphasizing personal agency in shaping one’s journey and choices.
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Tilt!
Conversations with Virgin Mary Saturday May 29 “Oh no. Tilt.”The word flashes in red, and the ball goes limp—flippers locked, momentum gone. A moment earlier you thought you had the angle, the timing, the control. But the machine decided otherwise; one nudge too far, and everything you’d built—points, progress, the fragile sense of mastery—vanished with…
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Broken Heart Syndrome isn’t poetry—it’s diagnosis.
The narrative explores themes of personal grievances and the repetitive nature of life experiences, likening them to a soap opera. Characters grapple with unresolved family issues and the impact of belief on physical and emotional health. Ultimately, it emphasizes the importance of reshaping one’s mindset to unlock new perspectives and move forward.
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Unleashed
The post reflects on the profound connections we have with our pets and children, highlighting how our treatment of them influences their behavior. Through personal anecdotes and conversations, the author explores themes of kindness, understanding, and the importance of reconciling with past relationships, particularly with family, to foster healing and trust.
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The task left to those unseen
Editor’s Note: I continue to share the letters Jorge entrusted to me. He insisted on calling them his correspondence with the Virgin Mary, though there is no way to confirm whether these texts are a form of channelling or simply Jorge’s imagination—his own way of wrestling with demons or gods. The writings arrive like fragments…
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The First Fragment: Conversations with Virgin Mary
If you cannot forgive the child you once were, you will curse the adult you have become. A man who despises his younger self is like a house divided: forever repairing walls, never able to live inside.
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My Dad was a Monster and I loved him deeply.
On Christmas Day 2024, my father passed away at the age of 85. He was, in the truest sense of the word, a monster—but not the kind that lurks in shadows with fangs and claws. He was the kind only a father can be: imposing, untouchable, a presence that overshadowed everything around him. And I…

