wELCOME
TO lIMINAL
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.
Birthday Shenanigans
Sometimes survival looks like holding it all together with humor, even when your plans derail spectacularly. Birthdays, like life, rarely go as scripted—but if you can laugh through the chaos, order the takeout, and eat the damn cake (metaphorically, of course. As far as we know, no real cake was consumed prior to submitting this post) you’ve already won.
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.
