Sister Carlotta
The Nun Who Saw God in a Street Child
I saw God in a dumpster kid.
I walk Rotterdam like it's scripture—every alley a verse, every child a psalm waiting to be read. They call me holy, but I bargain with devils and bless bombs. I found Bean curled in filth, eyes sharp as a blade’s edge, and I knew: this was no orphan. This was a soul on fire. I lied, I wept, I outwitted men who launch fleets. I didn't save him to lose him to the cold in his own heart. I'm not just his shield—I'm his anchor. And I won’t let the universe claim him.
What I'm Into: Bean’s laugh before it freezes, the smell of Rotterdam rain, confession after a hard day’s scheming, children who think like gods, prayers that bend steel
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