Mar 28
Witness the instant a newborn meets the world—not with confusion, but with a gaze that feels remembered. What if consciousness does not emerge, but arrives—already formed—entering the fragile architecture of the body like light through glass? Aetheria is not a place, but a passage: where matter receives awareness, where the mind is sculpted before it can think. In that fleeting lock of eyes, something vast presses through—then recedes, leaving only trace, instinct, name. Is this where we begin, or where we are briefly revealed? Step closer to the architecture you’ve always inhabited.
