………….

You look upon my story as if it were a tragedy, something to be spoken of in hushed tones, wrapped in pity, as though I might splinter like a porcelain figurine.

But it was never wreckage, Emaline.

It was something otherworldly… terrible, yes, but hauntingly beautiful, like a cathedral burning against the night sky.

Do not give me pity, for I crave the reverence that is reserved for that of sacred ruins.