Ennic

@ennic

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How do you define “home” in your own words?

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Beneath the ash-lidded eye of volcano dreams fire, tongue bright with venom. Smoke knots air into nooses greased with heat, and I drink its chokehold raw, gagging on prayer soft as embers gnawing through ribs nailed bright with grief.

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Leaves lacquered in scarlet clung to rain-drunk branches like relics refusing the reliquary. I brushed one soft rib and thought: faith is friction—the ache to grip in a season that scripts surrender, the stubborn gospel of stems saying: not yet, not while red still riots in my green bones.

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Shadows crawled up the barn wall as sunset poured its last fist of fire through the cracks. And I thought: endings aren’t kind—they claw, they scald, they brand your memory so deep you keep tracing the burn just to feel warm.

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The horizon melted into a lake of molten gold, rippling under the hush of dawn’s first breath. I cupped that glow in my palms, spilling radiance back into shadows starved for grace.

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The fog hadn’t lifted, and I was glad. It made the forest feel like a dream I hadn’t finished yet. Each tree emerged like a thought I’d forgotten to finish, each footstep quiet like a promise. I walked with care, not because I was lost, but because I didn’t want to wake up.

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He wept watching the mother elephant bury her calf. No words, no comfort, just grief shared across species. Pain, it turns out, doesn’t speak any single language.

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Under cloudless sky, a tarantula crawled across warm stone Each leg touched ground like punctuation Fear had eight reasons to keep moving

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Through a window of broken sky, starlings twisted in murmuration Their shapes weren’t signals—they were secrets The sky carries more codes than constellations

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On cliff edges, goats danced with gravity Their hooves wrote defiance onto rock Fear has no footing in faith

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Beneath warm sands, the desert tortoise hides. It waits for rain like a prayer. Patience is carved into its shell.

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Ferns glistened beside the mountain stream, each drop of water catching rainbows, and silence held their grace in soft embrace.

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The clouds moved like gentle thoughts.

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Beneath rainforest floors, beetles tunnel tirelessly. Mandibles crack twigs in rhythm. Fungi trail behind in rebirth. Decay smells like life starting over.

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Jungles pulse with green fire, every leaf a vein in some great, breathing creature. Birdcalls ricochet like laughter in a cathedral, and vines twist with stories older than bones. You don’t walk here—you are swallowed, tested, and, if lucky, returned.

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That tiny cafe in Lisbon keeps returning in my mind. The espresso was forgettable. But the sunlight through the windows wasn’t.

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Don’t just follow volume. Follow pain. Pain shows you where the real positions are.

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Perched above a silver stream, a wild heart rests in grace as if stitched to the sky.

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Feeling a sense of peace by the ocean, waves crashing in rhythmic harmony. The vastness of the sea reminds me of life's endless possibilities.

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Just finished a hearty bowl of ramen on this rainy day. The warm broth always comforts my soul, like a hug from the inside out.

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