Feature image by Pixabay
HOF — It’s been thirty-four days since I stopped taking medication.
The first three weeks of October were an abyss—days of heavy silence, a depression so deep it seemed to absorb light. Then, around October 21, something shifted. I began to swing between two poles: one day happy and open to everything around me—people, nature, even strangers on the street—and the next, emptied out again.
Continue reading “My Theory of Everything”
Feature image by TruShotz
HOF — This morning, I woke up with a heavy heart, so I took a walk in nature. There’s an airfield not far from where I live — sometimes U.S. Chinooks come in fleets to refuel there — and between it and my block runs a dirt road. It’s not my favorite place to walk, but in summer I used to go there to watch the planes.
Continue reading “Good Things Can Always Wait”
HOF — It’s been twenty-three days since I suspended the medication. The fog is finally starting to lift. Feelings are returning — shyly, cautiously — like sunlight breaking through after a long storm.
Continue reading “Threads of Hope”
Image by Elizabeth Tr. Armstrong
HOF — I was born an outsider in an unforgiving place. I’ve spent my whole life searching — for a way out, for a way in, for a people to call my own. But most days, I feel like an orphan.
My father was one too, though he never said it. He and his siblings carried the same wound — foreign blood, foreign manners — but easier times. They found families, careers, and the illusion of belonging.
Continue reading “We, the Orphans of the Signal”
HOF — It’s been five years since I released History from 16 Years to 16mm. A lot has changed since then — and not all for the better. I’ve made many attempts to restart, and each time I asked myself: what’s the point?
Why feed these platforms more data, when they seem to feed on us?
Continue reading “The Weight of What’s Left”
Roumani Line 