There are moments in life when the world loosens its hold on us without warning. They arrive quietly, without ceremony, yet they alter something fundamental in how we experience ourselves. In these moments, we are not defined by place or time, but by a subtle shift inward that feels as though we have stepped just outside the boundaries of both. It is here, in this suspended state, that a question emerges with surprising clarity: Where do I end, and where do I begin? Solitud

you are all things to me the thunder disrupting my silence the highlight of my enlightenment the fullness of my empty mind be simply as you are empty your mind detach from the impermanent master the unknown conquer the unfamiliar polish the pearls in your heart let yourself be pure and absolute with my infinite This piece is an excerpt from the other sides of love by Sunday Bloo. © 2026 Sunday Bloo. All rights reserved. This work may not be reproduced, distributed, or adapted

When the box was opened, the world did not shatter all at once. It unraveled slowly, as silk pulled too quickly from a loom. First came the whispering things. Regret slipped out like pale smoke. Then Envy, sharp-eyed and green as wet leaves. Grief followed, heavy-footed, carrying storms in its cloak. They spilled from the box in colors both dark and dazzling - Fear with trembling hands, Deceit with a silver tongue, and War dressed in iron and fire. The air grew crowded wit