The thing about organic life is that, while it can be broken, wounded and damaged, it cannot be repaired. We are not bridges, or knives, or clocks. We are not doors or garments or wheels.
We can’t be mended, we can only heal, and even then, we hold on to scar tissue both literal and metaphorical as a record of that healing. Like a tree growing over and around a deep gash in its body, we hold on to our wounds. Our bones remember every break.
We are books, carrying our own history.
Welcome to Sword of Symphonies.
Original music by Kathleen~!
You can find the Heroic Discord here!