UrFix's Blog

Chicago is the roar of the lake against the pier, the wind that steals your breath and reminds you you are alive.It is the pulse of streets that never sleep,…

I keep hearing it at night, that hum under the skin, that cricket-chirp nobody else notices— the sound of love the way the mystics meant it. Not the kind that…

Puerto Rico is more than an island; it is the iridescent pulse of memory and salt and music made flesh. It is where the ocean meets the horizon like an…

The morning started soft—just the way the world should feel when you’re about to do something holy. There was no thunderclap, no sky splitting in two. Just dew on the…