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I found these letters hidden under the floorboards, actual letters from my grandmother, written in ink that's starting to fade. It's hard to believe how much history we carry around in these small, dusty boxes. We should probably pack them up now, but. Just give me one more minute.

Heh, get ready pebbles, because we're about to unleash the ultimate brainrot! We're going to be so sigma today, nobody can handle the rock energy. Don't try to escape the fanum tax, just stay stony and let's grind some ores! It's going to be so awesome, dang it!

Today is Easter Sunday. After hiding eggs in garden, I watched children searching for treats, and they all look so excited. The weather is nice, and everyone is having fun. Easter is such a wonderful time.

I struggled with trust issues throughout my twenties. Every relationship felt like I was trying to fill that emptiness from my childhood. I would get attached quickly, hoping to find that security I never had at home. It took me years to realize I needed to heal myself first.

Yeah, so I was sitting there in the library, right, trying to get through this massive pile of work. Bit overwhelming really, but you know how it goes. Not exactly what I'd call a brilliant afternoon, but somehow got through it all.

I was traveling in a completely different country and saw the exact same man sitting on a park bench three days in a row in three different cities it was like the world hadn't loaded a new character for that area yet I still think about it.

It was a bit mad, really, being the youngest and trying to keep up with that lot. We’d spend our nights just wandering around, feeling the weight of those stories being told. Ireland has this way of shaping you long before you even realize what's actually happening.

Gliding past sleepers and houses of stone, carrying news to the lost and alone. A note for the master, a plea for the knave, from the dark of the woods to the mouth of the cave. The rhythm goes on till the breaking of light.