keeper of the quiet

this is a slow, soft corner of tumblr where silence isn’t empty — it’s full of stories, memories, and half-forgotten light.

i archive fragments — poems, photos, dreams, analog ghosts, liminal spaces, and nostalgia’s quiet hum. if you wander here, expect gentle reflections, soft hauntings, and things left behind.

what you’ll find here: • original poetry, dream logs, and prose • ethereal imagery and analog aesthetics • curated submissions from quiet voices like you • occasional thoughts on liminal spaces and analog horror

submissions: please submit poetry, dream journal entries, nostalgic photos, liminal/weirdcore/dreamcore art, or soft horror pieces. original work preferred. credit sources when applicable. submission guidelines are pinned in the sidebar.

taken anons: 🕯

rules: ❌ no hate speech, harassment, or bullying ❌ no graphic violence or explicit content ❌ no spam or self-promo unrelated to the blog’s vibe ❌ respect the quiet — keep asks and replies thoughtful and kind

DNI (do not interact) if you: • disrespect boundaries or community members • spread negativity or toxicity • post or promote content that violates the above rules

📎 attached: – voicemail with no sound – torn receipt dated 2 years from now – polaroid of a place i’ve never been

note scribbled in red ink:

i’ve walked through five doorways today and not remembered why. each room felt familiar— but none were mine.

keys, time, sleep, whole weeks slip between the cracks.

found scrawled in chalk behind the old locker:

not night. not morning. just that in-between place where time hums low and no one looks at the clock.

one glove, never worn

voice recorder with no tape

envelope sealed with wax, no address

pair of glasses that show places you’ve never been

you have 3 slots. what are you carrying in the dream you can’t wake up from?

💾 a cassette labeled “DO NOT PLAY” 📕 a journal with someone else’s handwriting 📡 a beeping device you don’t know how to use