2025.09.06
Became a gene Curtain keeper. It did not protect gold treasures or stone letters, but the delicate curtains of memory that roam between being alive and forgetful. Every veil was shining, the breath of someone’s story was suspended among the world.
His chamber was filled with layers of Gosmarine clothes, with everyone who wrote with the secrets. Some were unconscious like dust in the twilight, while others shone with silent belief. Jane walks with devotion between them, brushing their hands against their surfaces, awakening the pieces.
His role was not to keep them safe, but to tie them together. She breathed a tired soldier and thundered her with a child’s glorification, obliged and hoped. He broke into pieces not to restore what he lost, but to respect the incomplete of the memorial.
There were nights when the curtains were nearly pressed, wrapping around the jean as if asking to remember. In those nights, he whispered not as a savior but as a partner: “You are not alone. You are seen.”
Thus, the gene became a veil – partial reminder of the fragile line between existence and disappearance. Those who entered his chamber often remained with tears, could not explain it, realizing that the curtain had brushed against his hidden memories.
And likewise, Jane continued to solve the past, but to breathe, tremble and quietly alive.