MARK RITCHER II

Between the crossed frames of life, experiences accumulate like water drops on a window pane, with transparent intentions, pooling into memories made nostalgic.  2025 marched in procession toward cosmic convergence as ghosts of the past wrestled with specters of the future, whispering enigmas riddled with finality: “What burdens you shoulder at the next turning, fragments consign to shadows behind, so what light is ahead of you?” My answer: “Reckoning.” In a world of memes, t

A riddled message for those who knew and know, or just want to be fooled. This paradox is unlocked with a key — open the box. Preface:...