Mandy Morose

“Pearls on the ground, Messes that don’t get cleaned up for days, Breeze through a screen door…” February 25, 2026, 4:30 PM, Home If a joke is written and performed in the middle of the woods, does anyone care?... A DATA STORY February Becomes March There is only one thing that surrounds me recently - haunting me with every glance around this place. As if trapped in a white room where there is nothing but the same everywhere you look. This life requires a re-brand, so to speak. There...

July 19th, 2026, The Quarter Centennial In public, I am a plant photosynthesizing information around me and transporting nutrients under the surface we share. Through our common space, I absorb you. “There is no end to the ways a person can find people in whatever frequency or routine they want. People and conversations are accessible everywhere.” - January 19, 2026, 3p.m. The “Fuchsia Book” is a Rhodia journal I bought in New Mexico on January 10th, 2026, a day before my 25th birthday and a...

May 3, 2026, 9:42 AM Mornings are best for writing, and there is no better way to begin. Something will come to me… July 4, 2026 I have returned after a solid two months of continued isolation, and I seem to have undertaken my final epiphanies. I have been slowly sobering up since the end of April, when Edgar made an unexpected appearance in the middle of the night. That was the last time I saw him and probably ever will again. Not everything is meant to be forever, friendships rarely survive...