This is a soft space for hard things.

There’s no big premise, no linear plot. Just moments. The kind that live in the body long after the mind forgets.

Liminal is an evolving archive of memories, fragments, and field notes. Some are the founders’. Some are shared by others. All live in the quiet places between what was and what could be.

We write to remember what we’ve lost.
We write to honor what we’re becoming.
We write because care—real care—is a culture we make together.

New entries will appear when they’re ready. Some names are real. Some are not. All of them are true. On some level.

You can submit your own here .

Let this be an offering.