Threads

There are questions that cannot be asked directly. Shadows of a moment that lingers too long, a breath held just past its limits. These questions arrive like a fog: slowly and softly. You do not see them coming. You simply find yourself embraced by them.

The ache of a decision that cannot be remade…
The quiet echo of time as it slips through hands that meant to hold more tightly…
Some kinds of pain have no language, yet, still, insist on being named.

Because love, loss and the spaces between them are not clean lines but smudges and blurs.

This story appeared like a nascent light, barely glimmering. What we found was not a tale, not entirely. Rather, part meditation, part omen. A handwritten note left by Laukoni for us to share:

On the edge of surrender,
in a quiet moment caught
between everywhere and nowhere,
time pauses…
both stillness and chaos at once.

A lone blue flower in a garden where all others wear white,
yet to be found but already 
part of the whole.

*

Grief on the horizon held in the indecision, but here nonetheless.
Decision — life.
Decision — death.

(Un)familiar loom and a soon-to-be missing thread.

You will find the story when it is meant to be. It is taking shape now: beneath the surface, beside the stillness; in the ink not yet fully dry.

A new light flickers in the Wounded Shadows™ 

— Team Laukoni

P.S. Nothing else is known, except that the work has begun. When the silence around it softens, it will be shared. If you choose to read on, tread gently. Not because the words are fragile, but because you might be.

And perhaps, so are we all.

[October 2025]

Some pages do not belong to any book. Those kinds of pages are not quite fiction, but not quite anything else either. They observe. They invite reflection. They listen more than they speak.

Laukoni has begun placing these reflections — on the craft, on the currents that carry or corrode it, on the strange presence of the machine, and on the architecture beneath what one might call the industry — into a quieter series. Not to warn, but to wonder.

If you encounter them, fragmentarily, in the letters Laukoni shares, they are meant for you. If they call to you, read them. Read them as though your mind were a tabula rasa, as if you were looking at the subject for the first time.

Consider them doors, slightly open. No one knows yet where they lead.

You are welcome to enter.

— Team Laukoni

[March 2025]

This book is for those who seek to stay awake in themselves, to keep their mind clear; not so much in perfection, as in presence. It does not seek to reverse time, but to remain fully within it.

At its core are questions, invitations and gentle practices; small rituals to keep the light burning, to tend to the beauty of still becoming.

Azure edition is Laukoni’s gift for those who have already lived many chapters, and wish to feel the clarity, presence and ease in the chapters to come.

It is a companion for the mind. An offering of care.
A lantern — for there is still more to see.

— Team Laukoni

[December 2024]

There exist doors closed so carefully that their ability to open is forgotten. Behind them, the words fermented in the darkness, sentences aged underground, letters pressed upon letters, refusing to fade.

One buried beneath another.

Some stories begin long before the ink touches the paper. They arrive after everything else has left, such as meaning that only reveals itself when questions fall silent. They bring back the weight of what shaped human experience: the unsaid that resists being named.  

On an east-facing windowsill, we found a yellowed parchment, covered with scars, bound with a burgundy-red ribbon. We looked inside. However many times rewritten, the old ink kept shining through. The story has begun anew.

For a moment, it felt as though walking backwards through broken timelines, addressing the act of carrying inherited textures no one asked to carry. Observing, from a distance, a life once lived, and discovering meanings reflected in the eyes of people once loved: those who became strangers. 

And now strangers start to make sense. 

Another verse unfolds from Wounded Shadows™

— Team Laukoni

[July 2024]

written in Echoes, not Origins
where one Meaning fades into another;
where Silence carries what neither
can hold alone.

L.

[March 2024]

the light is increasing,
but not yet strong —
can you notice…

the return to presence.

Visions?
Visions.

L.

[February 2024]

It has come into being: a space for the Telling, a place to return to.

This is a sanctuary for all Laukoni’s creations: some rooms are filled with narratives told in pictures that did not fit anywhere else, others reflect parts written with words alone that belong to a larger collection. A few guard artwork that transforms with each place it inhabits, where voice, vision and senses entwine in ever-changing perception.

Each space holds even more silence.

If you are here, you have already recognised the hidden path.

Welcome home. Stay as long as you need.

— Team Laukoni

[December 2023]