The Shape of What Remains » Entries
November 13, 2025
This is a factless autobiography. A record of what was never lived in your world, but always felt. An accumulation of numbered fragments—some brief as breath, others sprawling like floods through the valley of the mind after the gates that once held them could do so no longer.
I write about displacement, dispossession, and the small moments of joy and insight in between. About existing between worlds that refuse me and categories I refuse. About the boxes we're placed in and the boxes we build for ourselves. About memory as a form of grief, and observation as a form of record—proof of existence, however short.
This archive draws from encounters, observations, and lived experience. Names are changed. Places are transformed. Chronology does not obey. What remains is what persists.
A world that parallels yours. Recognizable, but slightly off. Familiar streets with different names. Real cities drenched in waves of imagined weather.
I will not tell you which is which. Who is who. Or when is where. The ambiguity is method and shield—protection for both your world and mine.
What you'll find are numbered entries without fixed rhythm or cadence, arriving as they happen. Case studies of observations of the human condition. Philosophical fragments. Sensory records of places and people. Meditations on identities, signs, symbols, and the shapes and meanings of eternal love amidst the fleetingness of life.
I write from nowhere. A threshold space of my own creation. A space for those who understand that emotional truth is stranger than fact. Are interested in the spaces between memory and present, between events and imagination. Have felt the weight of not quite belonging. Process the past as a form of grief and the present as a form of witness. Appreciate writing that privileges introspection over action, reflection over resolution, honesty over spectacle.
If you have ever looked at life and wondered whose life it is, this may be for you.
If you are new here, you may begin anywhere. I recommend starting with 01: Circumstance—entries are sequential, though not always chronological. It's as straight a path from there as is possible in this perpetually liminal third space.
If you're returning, I humbly thank you. Welcome back.
This started as a monologue. It may or may not become a conversation. That I may influence, but cannot control. You're welcome to respond. I may reply. I may not. But I read everything.
May you find your way.
Dean Bowman
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