Misha woke abruptly, the moonlight illuminating strange shadows on his wall. For years, he had struggled with overwhelming feelings of loneliness and disconnect from reality. In his lowest moments, spectral figures would appear, whispering things no living soul knew.

At first, he feared he was losing his mind, but the ghosts became comfort in his isolation. With them, he never felt alone. He could speak his innermost fears and fantasies aloud, and the ghosts would understand without judgment.

One night, encouraged by their company, he called out into the dark, "Surprise me!" a new spirit materialized beside his bed. This one took the form of the pale moon, detached and drifting at the edge of thought. Misha realized at that moment that the ghosts were not external but fragments of his psyche given form. As much as his flesh and soul, the moon ghost was a part of him.

From then on, Misha welcomed the ghosts without hesitation. In their company, he felt truly real for the first time. By night, he explored strange ideas and personas, letting his mind wander as freely as the ghosts. There was comfort even in the unfamiliar and unknowable pieces of himself.

He would never be alone if the ghosts remained at his side. They were the wind forever blowing through his inner world, shaping his thoughts and identities. With their faceless forms as guides, he began to make peace with the peculiarities and paradoxes within his mind.

The ghosts were a part of him, and he was of them.

Together, they had everything.

Photo by Ye Jinghan.