wELCOME
TO lIMINAL
An archive of memories, fragments, and field notes. There’s no big premise, no linear plot. Just moments. The kind that live in the body long after the mind forgets. Some are the founders’. Some are shared by others. All live in the quiet places between what was and what could be.
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. Anonymous submissions welcome. Share yours here .
The year she left
This is a story of a mother, a daughter, and the quiet strength that carried them through unraveling and rebirth. It’s about love that holds, even as everything else shifts—proof that even in the hardest seasons, we can rise and so can they.
To the Caregivers
To the caregivers: We see the love, labor, and quiet strength you bring into every room. You hold families together, often without thanks, showing up with grace even when it’s hard. This is our gratitude letter—because without you, there would be no us.
