dear reader,
come in. close the door gently behind you.
this is a quiet place — a drawer full of dusk, pages that never made it into books, and thoughts that still hum with what-ifs.
i’m milly, and once upon a very ordinary afternoon, i started writing to make sense of the noise in my head.
what began as a whisper to myself slowly unfolded into this: an archive of soft moments, half-held memories, and the kind of feelings that flicker like candlelight — fragile, but warm.
here, i gather the pieces i almost threw away: old sentences, heart-heavy lines, little truths that trembled too much to speak aloud.
some are messy. some are quiet. some might sound a little like you.
this isn’t just a scrapbook of mine. it’s a shared silence. a breath between heartbeats.
a place for everything tender, unfinished, and real.
so stay a while. open any drawer.
read slowly, with your heart open.
and when you leave, leave softer.
with love that lingers,
milly
i hope you choose to stay.
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