Excerpt:
Before a griot speaks, they touch the earth. Before I write, I whisper a promise.
Each word carries weight.
Each story carries a consequence.
I took an oath when I began this path — to write truth, even when disguised as myth.
To honor voices long silenced.
To weave thorns and beauty into one fabric.
If you’ve found your way here, perhaps you carry your own unspoken oath, too.
This blog is a space for keepers of stories, seekers of meaning, and rebels of memory.
Welcome. Take your seat beneath the Locust Tree.
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