Sandi’s Journey With Elena’s Baby Walking North With a Borrowed Future: Field Notes from Book VI Quantum Jump There’s a particular silence that lives between border towns and bus stops—too wide to be city noise, too thin to be wilderness. It’s the silence where people carry their lives in plastic bags and photocopied papers, hoping…
Tag: ChaosMagic
Bronze Age, Angel, Golden Milk
The Day My Angel’s God Didn’t Exist Yet – Book VI Quantum Jump This is an excerpt from my in‑progress novel: a sardonic anthropologist, an ex‑KGB archangel, and a sideways fall into the Bronze Age steppe, where the body and the cosmos argue through milk, blood, and hooves. Context: Elena has just fallen into a…
Quantum Jump – From Lake Fundudzi to the Pontic–Caspian Steppe
“The last arc ended in water, wings and hooves and two babies born at the edge of the world. This one opens on open grassland, smoke from dung fires, and the wary eyes of people who have no word for archangel but know a god-shaped thing when they see one. Elena and Mikhail arrive in…
The Door Your Language Built
Field notes on Dutch “dead,” Vodun “elsewhere,” Yoruba Egun, and how language decides what our dead are allowed to be—and what grief can still do.
Abidjan at Altitude: When the Shipping King Moves His Pieces
Field notes on ports, power, and a shipping king who has been controlling trade routes since Uruk. The Memory Cartographer — Book V.2.
Sitting with a Gawlo in Labé’s Highlands
Field Notes from Labé: Where Stories Keep Time Book V – Part II There’s a point on Elena’s road through West Africa where, for the first time, she isn’t interviewing anyone, recording anything, or proving she has a right to be there. She’s just standing at the edge of a village square in Labé, listening….
Hollandé – When the Fouta Highlands Borrow Your Home’s Name
On the dusty road into Guinea’s Fouta Djallon, a battered Peugeot and a smiling taxi driver quietly weld Elena’s Dutch past to the West African highlands. When he calls the mountains “Hollandé” in Pular, the word suddenly makes her feel less like a foreigner and more like someone whose old home and new road have collided for a moment in the same name.
Waraba: Hyenas in the Malian Night – The Agbara Chronicles
On the road to Timbuktu, a dreamwalk reunion under silver dunes — and the night Karim negotiated two hundred metres of Malian scrubland in his underwear with a cooking pot and three unimpressed hyenas. Field notes from The Agbara Chronicles.
The Archangel’s Archive
Operational field notes from a KGB archangel who has kept records across centuries — and failed at detachment exactly once. Read free on Kobo.
SIRA: The Swahili Word That Changed How I Write About Memory
Field Notes from Dar es Salaam — Behind the Scenes Sira — the path that was always meant for your feet. There are words that stop you mid-sentence when you first hear them. Sira. Kiswahili for biography — but not the kind you find in a library. Not chronology, not curriculum vitae. The path itself,…
The Memory Cartographer 