Welcome. Or perhaps… not yet.

They told me not to remember.
Not to dig.
Not to write.

But memory is stubborn.
And the city — she speaks, if you know where to listen.

This is not a beginning.
It’s a fracture.
The first ripple on the surface of something deeper.

I won’t explain everything.
Not yet.
Just follow the lines.

And if something calls to you — answer.

— N.