Reasons for Writing
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by Hyacinthe Miller
•
8 February 2026
Cool crescent of proportional perfection, the nautilus shell gleams in a slash of sunlight. A lustrous comma contradiction of itself, its form pale punctuation. I palm the sensuous pearly curve, wondering from which languid reef it came. I sense the sacred geometry, the swirl of luminosity deep within, the hypnotic tumble into slippery darkening shadow. There is a flawless symmetry in these nacred walls, these ordered wavelets of calcified ooze from long forgotten mantle tissues. I cup the slim shell to my ear - the sea-sound is a muted hush. No thing resides within its burnished cavernosities. I stroke the stiff ridges of past lives, the vacant tidal chambers of translucent armour, protecting naught.








