cafe

to truth which cannot fail to heal and heal forever. It is not a thought which judges an illusion by its size, its seeming gravity, or anything that is related to the form it takes. It merely focuses on what it is and knows that no...

it *feels* lived-in, tactile, alive with silence. The image pulses with painterly warmth, each brushstroke seeming almost palpable under the golden glow, making this space feel both timeless and intimately human, an oasis suspended...

specimens of their writings. Of these authors, probably three-fourths will not find their work included—for which seeming discourtesy I can only offer the sincere plea of the limitations of space which were imposed upon me. I am not...

message comes from the very beak of Falcon. I am very sure that she’s holding a meeting,” the messenger replied, seeming exhausted from my questions. “Okay,” I said, trying to relax. “Sorry, I was being pretty paranoid.” “It’s...