A note on this raw version

This version is a public repository of the texts, without formatting and without the full set of images that originally formed the backbone of the project.

I choose not to use modern web technologies. I keep these pages stark and silent, using only basic tools to build them.

Biographical information is included, mostly in a single long post, without voyeurism and without any request for recognition.

This site is an act of psychological sovereignty.

I hide to survive. I survive by writing.

This is where the interstitial forms of my re-emergence come together. It is not enough to recover from amnesia. One must also emerge from the earth scorched by this new memory.

The texts explore what haunts them in return: the unbearable; the body; memory and loss; birth, forever spilling out of itself.

In these pages, French and English are interwoven with one another. You may wish to use an AI translator to help you understand any untranslated part written in French.

Car un tissage est requis, afin que nous puissions décrire la brisure du monde incommencé.

The process of emerging from amnesia was accompanied by an "alchemical" work on images connected to the texts. These images most likely hold no interest in themselves, and I had to exclude them from this raw version.

I have constantly made sure not to use images in order to inflict violence upon others, not to take revenge on others. "I hurt you with my image" is a pitfall I strove to avoid. The truly harsh images remain hidden; no one will ever see them. Nevertheless, my default level of violence is such that I do not always realize what may affect others. That is why I use Trigger/Content Warnings.

Harl Z.

Sections

Bio-Dysgraphia
Excerpts from a single unfinished autobiographical post of mnemonic re-emergence, "Silence", originally titled The Undisclosed Rape Zone — I'm not URZ. The text is said to be "cold." There exist no words, no turn of phrase that can formulate what I feel. It lies so far beyond common experience that I cannot even call upon empathy. I only hope my emotions will not kill me like a breaking wave.

Scratchbook Diary
Journal entries and intuitions, written without concern for intellectual or conceptual rigor.
Nevertheless, if you claim that there is "a flaw" in what I write, yet are incapable of saying precisely what, in a clear, structured, and reasoned way — then you are intellectually unfit despite your degrees and your status, and you should remain silent.

Me and HeЯ[L]
The heart of the chevron that pierces straight through me.
I pronounce the glyph 'Herl'.

Abrasions and Draft
Structured reflective short essays and notes, distinct from the raw intuitions found in Scratchbook Diary.

Traumatized people should not feel any obligation to read this material.

You don't need me

And you don't have to identify with me or my words.