Remembered by Dust - Chapter 10: Plague

December went quiet.

I do that sometimes because breath, rest, and reckoning are also part of the pattern.

This week, Remembered by Dust returns with Plague. As allegory and as record. As reminder and as the warning we keep refusing to read.

In this moment when preventable diseases resurface, when memories fray and responsibility is displaced, this chapter asks what contagion reveals about power, worth, and who is asked to keep breathing through it.

This is a chapter about cost.

You are here.

Thank you for reading Plague.

Next comes Passing Drones, a chapter about thresholds and markings. About doors painted for angels, and what happens when mercy requires an address, a roof, and a body that can be seen from the sky.

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