Özge Acu

Not a dream, nor a body, nor a voice.Only the obligation to exist.Passing through everything, belonging to nothing.Like a wind with no name.Unwritten, unseen, but always moving.A silence that remembers what the world forgets.

Perhaps she was at the edge of somethingstandinglike a shape that forgot its namenot touched,but passedslightly missingslightly too muchand in the exact centerof never. Some wanderers reach no destination.Because what haunts them walks within,and every path leads back to the self