THE MINERALOGY OF MASKS

Appearance learned early the art of polishing its own stone.

Essence never needed such a theater. It simply is, even in the dark.

There are faces carved like diamonds, hiding caverns where light never dared to enter.

There are smiles with a perfect cut, concealing within them a void no jeweler could ever name.

Marble knows a truth that vanity pays dearly to forget: no surface reveals the mineral that rots — or shines — in the depths.

Rust is born from within.
Gold is too.

That is precisely why so many people prefer never to descend: down there, there is no room to lie about what one truly is.

Humanity has become a master at sculpting masks and illiterate before its own stone. It confuses polish with character, brilliance with value, echoes with voices, and applauds its own reflection believing it is applauding a soul.

The world remains on its knees before the most polished stones, kissing glass displays while stepping — without ever realizing it — on the raw stones, without shine, without an audience, the only ones capable of holding the mountain.

Every mask has an expiration date. Every surface, sooner or later, cracks.

When the varnish finally falls away, only one question remains:

Beneath everything you have displayed — was there stone, or was there only dust pretending to be rock?

In the end, appearance always finds admirers. Depth finds only those who had the courage to descend.

And courage never belonged to those who preferred to be seen rather than truly known.

J. Kasra
All rights reserved.

AS CRÔNICAS DA CANETA - Onde o silêncio se transforma em tinta.

 "Há livros que terminam na última página. Este começa quando você a fecha."

📖 AS CRÔNICAS DA CANETA

Onde o silêncio se transforma em tinta.

Numa noite sem explicação, uma porta surge onde não deveria existir.

Do outro lado, alguém está lendo a história da sua vida.

Entre bibliotecas impossíveis, ruas que aparecem apenas à meia-noite e uma entidade que escreve desde antes da memória humana, cada página aproxima você de uma verdade inquietante.

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THE GEOLOGY OF INTIMACY

 

THE GEOLOGY OF INTIMACY

Distance never asked for space. It asked for depth.

Mountains never prevent an encounter. Surfaces do.

Every stone knows the weight of time. Few know the weight of remaining inaccessible.

Quartz preserves the light. Granite endures for centuries. Yet no mineral is harder than a heart that has chosen not to be excavated.

Intimacy begins where masks turn to dust. Distance begins when someone prefers polishing their own rock instead of allowing another to discover its veins.

There are people sitting beside us who have never crossed even a millimeter of our soul.

And there are absences that still breathe within us like ancient mountains.

J. Kasra — All rights reserved.