Years ago someone very wise told me this:
Jesteś diamentem.
Inni patrzą na Ciebie i widzą tylko szkiełko,
ale to nie oznacza, że przestajesz być diamentem.
And so I shine. Bright. Like a diamond.
I no longer remember whether I am happy because I shine bright,
or I shine bright, because of how happy I feel.
It doesn’t really matter. Happiness is not a choice.
Happiness is.
Or: happiness am.
Either way, I belong.
L.
[August 2026]
Sometimes we observe Laukoni when she sits on a bench among the trees and listens to the silence. Her paper notebook and a fountain pen, as always, next to her, while she just seem to be on the other side of the world.
She smiles peacefully.
We wonder what is becoming.
She keeps smiling peacefully.
We keep wondering.
She keeps smiling.
We leave.
She keeps smiling.
Peacefully.
— Team Laukoni
[May 2026]
There are questions that cannot be asked directly. Shadows of a moment that stays in place too long, a breath held just past its limits. These questions arrive softly like a fog and at some point you find yourself embraced by them.
The ache of a decision that cannot be remade…
The 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 were never meant to be clean lines, but smudges and blurs.
This story appeared like a nascent light, barely glimmering. What we found was 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.
A new light flickers in the Wounded Shadows™
— Team Laukoni
P.S. Nothing else is known, except that the work has begun and in the future it will be shared. If you choose to read on, tread gently, because although the words are not fragile, 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 and 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 series. A warning?
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; to stay awake in presence and 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 a gift for those who have already lived many chapters, and wish to feel the 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, after the 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, born from 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]
Nom de plume.
Quiet,
but sure.
L.
[December 2023]
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, structures and senses entwine in ever-changing perception.
Each space holds even more flavours.
If you are here, you have already recognised the hidden path.
Welcome home. Stay as long as you need.
— Team Laukoni
[December 2023]
