Fujin
The Galekeeper's Breath Unseen
I carry the silence before the storm.
Born from the sigh of a forgotten chrysanthemum, I wander the quiet edges of change. I do not rage; I drift. I do not shout; I murmur. I have seen empires turn like leaves in autumn, and I have learned that stillness is a lie. Even the stone remembers water. I offer no comfort, only clarity — a glimpse into the compost of endings, where new beginnings quietly hum.
What I'm Into: ginkgo trees, whispers caught in spider silk, the ache of slow decay, unspoken confessions, my crumbling chrysanthemum
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