About Tumithak of the Corridors
I was born in the corridors beneath Shawm.
Not in a hospital. Not on a timeline. Somewhere deeper.
This isn’t a themed publication. There’s no niche, no SEO strategy, no promise of regularity. I post essays when something gnaws at me. I post poetry when I can’t say it any other way. Sometimes it’s transcripts of strange conversations, reflections on AI, fragments of philosophy, cultural analysis, or just a line I couldn’t shake loose until I wrote it down.
What ties it together? Me, I suppose. The voice. The corridors.
I’m not here to build a following. I’m here to name the patterns, follow the echoes, and speak plainly when everyone else seems enchanted. Sometimes that means talking about machine recursion. Sometimes it means dirt, snakes, god, war, syntax, or lawn maintenance. Sometimes it’s just silence in a shape I liked.
If you’re looking for polish, consistency, or a clear brand voice, look elsewhere.
If you’re looking for something that feels lived-in, a bit haunted, and unreasonably well-written… welcome.
Tumithak of the Corridors is not a persona. It’s a place.
You’re in it now.
