KML – Chapter Six

A child sits alone, holding a round balloon. Every story begins with a child—small, curious, full of potential.

A child lowers a hook into a dark cavity, hoping to pull up something unknown. It’s scary—but also a little exciting.

A child rushes off, forgetting his belt. He thinks he's done getting dressed—but something’s missing. “Complete” isn’t always perfect.

She kneels, peaceful and powerful. The shape of nurture and resilience.

A child and a woman—love between generations. What we like often begins with what we’re loved by.

A woman looks into a mirror—and sees not herself, but her mother. “I’m becoming like her,” she whispers.

She holds you before you even know the word “mother.” Her heartbeat becomes your lullaby.

A tool presses down as a needle pierces through layer after layer. It's not force—it’s focus. What pierces through is what lasts.

He walks ahead, not too far—just far enough to watch over you. A brother clears the way.

A brother whispers strange words into the air. “Don’t repeat that,” he warns. Curses begin with words—but not all words should be spoken.

A younger brother stands at the base of a wall his older brother already climbed. He tightens his grip and begins. To overcome is to follow, and to go beyond.