In a world where machines replace human intimacy,
I stand for the slow, awkward, alive presence that cannot be simulated.

In a world that scrapes, flattens, and resells creative labor,
I stand for the sovereignty of the maker, and the sanctity of what is made.

In a world where stories are automated into sameness,
I stand for the story that can’t be replicated — the one carried in the body, breath, and myth.

In a world where speed is worshipped over depth,
I stand for the generative slowness where meaning takes root.

In a world where the sacred is mimicked but never touched,
I stand for the presence that cannot be reduced, coded, or bought.

In a world without ritual and meaning,
I stand for the simple ceremonies — the circle, the candle, the naming — that remind us what it means to be human.

In a world where we forget what the human is,
I stand for remembering — remembering who we are at the deepest level, as we step through the mirror into what comes next.