Proofreading, rewriting, getting lost in sentences, and resetting with music.

I watch your smoky fingers unspool, swirling in the air, spelling your arrival, the way only the dead know how

Drawings that brought her into existence, a friendship that followed, and a poem that moves through the quiet undoing of a bond, where scent holds what slips away. Memories persist even as it’s misplaced.

A gliding flight in Vermont becomes more when a series of small, insistent moments only later reveals their connection to a shocking event. Moving between lived experience and theory, the post traces how synchronicity and precognition unfold through time and creative response.

A visitation dream of flight, fear, and surrender gives way to a YouTube feed overtaken by cockpit footage and a vanished interview. The return of fighter jets pulls me back into questions of love, truth, and what remains unresolved.

After a dual diagnosis, I look back on intuition, loss, and a fractured friendship to understand how one painful reconnection may have given me more time.

Over ten days, I kept returning to the same images while working through depression and conflict with Hans. Through Eros and Psyche, the work shifted into distance, misalignment, and the inability to reconcile who he had been with who he is now. Still, I stayed with it.

During a ten-day drawing practice shaped by the myth of Eros and Psyche, I tried to draw Hans’s face for the first time in years. Each attempt forced a confrontation between devotion and verification. Making him visible risked shifting him from my unseen companion to the historical man he once was, revealing how the act of seeing can alter the bond itself.

After years of silence, I return to Blind Love, a novel born of visions, past lives, and the paranormal, guided again by Hans as the world turns darker still.

This post explores how Hans communicates with me through music.