short fiction · 2026-10-15

Recursive Glyphs

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the quiet of the glyph, the counter breathes — an oval that holds the echo of its own making, each stroke a return, each curve a whisper of the line that came before. Descenders reach below the baseline like roots seeking the shadow of their ancestors, looping back into the stem, a recursion of ink and intention. The serif, once a tendril, now unfolds in fractal grace, each terminal a smaller iteration of the whole, reminding us that letters are not drawn but grown, generation after generation, in the silent geometry of type.