We live in the in-between-between clarity and confusion, between what we hoped for and what we've lost. Paradox is a book for that place.
It is not a map.
It is not a manifesto.
It is not interested in answers that arrive too quickly.
Instead, it offers stories-tender, troubled, true in ways that resist explanation. Stories shaped like parables. Parables shaped like prayers. Prayers shaped like the questions we whisper when the night is long and certainty feels too heavy to hold.
These are tales of saints and strangers, prophets and parents, masked men and boys who lived, all aching toward something holy. They speak of grief and grace, silence and survival, and the God who keeps showing up in the most unexpected places.
Here, doubt is not a danger but a doorway.
Here, contradiction is not failure but invitation.
Here, the point is not to resolve-but to remain.
Paradox is not a book to be solved. It is a book to be sat with.
You are welcome here-
with your ache,
with your questions,
with the stories you're still trying to name.