The Pulse Beneath
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The crack is where the light lingers,where the silence bends,where the thread unravels just enoughto let the hidden scapes slip through. Nothing perfect was ever real.Nothing flawless was ever free. A note stumbles, a rhythm fractures,light folds into itself—not broken, but honest,not lost, but finding. Chaos hums beneath the surface,the pulse of something inside,a truth too jagged to ...