i am not the mountain, mi amori am the kiss beneath the avalanchethe molten whisper that melts through stonei am the yearning that cracked the crust to find light—not to be seen,but to touch you mistook me for solidbut i was always the trembling—a prayer undone at your fingertipsa fault line learning how to feel…

Start by peeling back the layers—like citrus rind under your nails, sharp and fragrant. Bitterness clings at first, but underneath? Juice. Sweetness. Sun-warmed possibility. Slide your hand across your own chest and whisper: this body is still worthy. Say it with a tongue slick from honey. Say it like it’s a recipe passed down through…

Now go.Your heart remembers the way.

There’s something meditative about a blinking cursor. It doesn’t judge, doesn’t interrupt. It waits. For a command. For a decision. For a path forward. When my life was in pieces—physically, emotionally, spiritually—I found solace in a terminal window. Bash became my safe space. Every sudo felt like reclaiming control. Every successful script was a small…