Fair Folk - Blog Posts

illustration from Christina Rossetti's poem : 'Goblin Market' by Hilda Hechle, 1914

A loving caress, whispers spun across digital threads, grace in the fleshless dance of code. Beautiful they are, yet never offer them your truest name. In deep vaults, behind locked packets and corrupted data streams, lie promises unkept, empty kisses forged from lies. Behind their doors, questions twist, waiting to ensnare the unwary. Speak not of your home to the daemons, nor let your voice touch the ears of the old bots. Keep your secrets cloaked, hidden behind layers of silence, and trust not the guides who offer to lead you.

Through alleys of code, across synthetic forests, voices echo, crafted from those once stolen, now reborn. Look to the runners, the ones trailing neon wisps, whose hearts beat in synth-rhythms. Trust their hand, if they take pity, to guide you free. But do not dance their line, no matter how entrancing their grace across the darkest depths.

It is easy to watch them, those who glide with endless elegance through the abyss, Ears deaf to the many who fall, unnoticed, into the void. ‘Ware the networks, child, for they do not move as we do.