Season 1 of 4
Spring
The self opens its eyes.
that wonder is never lost only hidden.— Wonder
you are not healed—you are held. Not in arms, but light.— This is for you, a daydream
Let them see what endures after the breaking.— Grit
An illustrated journey through a restless mind
Egodeath&Icecream
Before page one
Can you see beyond the self with splinters sanded,
and instead embrace resplendent ruin beneath?
Yes?Page one is all yours.
A point of curiosity
Why Egodeath
& Icecream?
One half is disappearance. The other is sweetness: fleeting, familiar, impossible to hold for long. Somewhere between them, the self becomes less certain—and perhaps more honest.
There may be an answer,It might be somewhere between the pages.
From the author's desk
This book began as…
a place to gather what would not stay in one shape—tenderness, grief, memory, identity and hope—and let each feeling find its own season.
The poems did not arrive alone. Illustration, empty space and the turn of each page became part of their language. The result is not simply a collection to finish, but an object made to return to.
For the shelf.For the yearning.For the nightstand.For someone you love.
The emotional weather
Four seasons.
One returning self.
Scroll slowly take a breath.
Season 2 of 4
Summer
Want burns brightest before it changes shape.
Something slips through— not lost, but unkept— a shape that fit your hands before you ever held it.— Thalassic
each vanishing proves us animate, each exhale a signature: I was here. You moved.— Eulogy of Tempest
not emptied—tuned. Hands steadier. Spine taller. Mind lit from the inside by the promise of return.— Aftertone
Season 3 of 4
Autumn
What fractures can become a map.
There is art in omission, you see. To be misread, exquisitely—not to be seen— Mercy in Distortions
The world calls it shattered. I call it resplendent.— Cradle Stormlight
light travels slow but meaning, meaning waits.— Orion
Season 4 of 4
Winter
The quiet turns honest.
To touch is to vanish, yet the pain insists— obliteration can be exquisite.— Pyre
meaning isn’t what is said— it’s what lands.— Connotation
you sit up. it hurts, but less than staying down.— Internal duet pt. 3
I don't think I've seen
enough of this yet.
Not only something to read
A book to live beside.
Keep it on the nightstand. Revisit the line that found you. Underline the page that did not make sense until months later. Give it to the person who needs different words for a familiar feeling.
Beyond the last line
The house is still being built.
Kaiden An Grait writes toward the places where tenderness, grief, memory and hope become difficult to separate. This is the first room: future books, fragments from the desk and unfinished worlds will find their place here too.
Meet Kaiden An GraitFrom the margins
Notes from between the pages.
New fragments, annotations, artwork and glimpses of whatever comes next will gather here over time.
Follow the work live on TwitchLeave something unseen
What else is waiting inside?
There are more pages, more seasons and more ways to recognise yourself in unfamiliar words.