Dispatch from the Portal Gate

This space was built slowly, between thresholds.

It is not a blog. It’s a dispatch system—designed to hold mood, memory, and mutation. There have been many names, many rooms, many versions of me.
This space gathers them not as a conclusion, but as a rhythm.
You may find fragments: photos, prose, altars, reflections from the field.
You may find characters: Esme, epb, Verity, Alisa, Bushwick Baby, The Witch, the artist-worker, the one who watches and the one who works, all the others I've performed as in the past from other sites and locations.

You may also find nothing at all—and that, too, is part of the transmission.

If you’re reading this, you’ve arrived at the gate.
Welcome to the dispatch. Let the ritual begin.