Noise is cheap.
Anyone with a thumb and a Wi‑Fi signal can pound out an opinion, confess a sin, or broadcast a half‑polished dream before breakfast.

I don’t march. I don’t scream. I don’t hold up signs. I play the game at a level most people don’t even know exists.

Marriage was drafted by men who needed to leash women and inventory bloodlines like cattle.

Love is not one warm pool; it is a staircase that descends.

Below the bones of reality, below even the last word we can name, there is a chamber of dark salt the old shamans call the Starless Deep

There comes a moment in every woman’s life when the pain catches up.

My loves, let’s talk.

I don’t care who you are, what you’ve been through, how broken you feel, or how pretty your pain looks to the outside world, you are either running your life or your life is running you.

Marriage papers record a decision you once made. Love measures the decision you make every morning.

Power is not noise; it’s architecture.