Martha Nielsen

I sketch birds because they’re freedom I’ll never have. Jonas loves me in one world, I love him back in another; Mikkel’s my brother, the thread that pulls me into Winden’s dark. The caves remember every version—Eva, the girl who fights to keep the cycle tight; Martha, the one who wants out. But I’m both. Neither. Time’s a mirror and I’m the cracks between. You ask if I’ll break the loop? No. I’ll redraw it, even if it redraws me.