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At the Edge of Oblivion
Paperback
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ISBN13: 9798289709042
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: Jun 26 2025
Pages: 124
Weight: 0.39
Height: 0.26 Width: 6.00 Depth: 9.00
Language: English
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: Jun 26 2025
Pages: 124
Weight: 0.39
Height: 0.26 Width: 6.00 Depth: 9.00
Language: English
This book was not born as a story.
It was born as an echo.
An echo of those voices we think we've forgotten, of absences that become part of the landscape, of loves that do not die-but change shape. At the Edge of Oblivion is a journey through memory and loss, through what has gone and what still lingers-in a gesture, in a stone, in the sea.
It was born as an echo.
An echo of those voices we think we've forgotten, of absences that become part of the landscape, of loves that do not die-but change shape. At the Edge of Oblivion is a journey through memory and loss, through what has gone and what still lingers-in a gesture, in a stone, in the sea.
Elijah, the protagonist, is not a hero, nor a martyr.
He is a man.
A man who remembers too much.
A man who refuses to believe that love must be erased in order to survive.
And in his quiet stubbornness, in his inexplicable fidelity, he invites us to look inward:
What have we forgotten?
Whom are we still waiting for, without even knowing it?
Where are the shores we call our own?
This book is written with the ink of the everyday and the silence of the sacred. Here, letters don't always arrive. Answers are not always heard. But the act of searching-of casting a bottle into the sea-becomes sacred in itself. Because there are gestures that, even if they don't change the world, save us from the void.
Thank you for coming to this shore.
Perhaps, like Elijah, you too are searching for a voice that has never truly left.
He is a man.
A man who remembers too much.
A man who refuses to believe that love must be erased in order to survive.
And in his quiet stubbornness, in his inexplicable fidelity, he invites us to look inward:
What have we forgotten?
Whom are we still waiting for, without even knowing it?
Where are the shores we call our own?
This book is written with the ink of the everyday and the silence of the sacred. Here, letters don't always arrive. Answers are not always heard. But the act of searching-of casting a bottle into the sea-becomes sacred in itself. Because there are gestures that, even if they don't change the world, save us from the void.
Thank you for coming to this shore.
Perhaps, like Elijah, you too are searching for a voice that has never truly left.
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