Hieroglyphs is a living digital archive of childhood memory. A collection of individual stories from around the world, gathered together not to prove how different we are, but to explore what connects us.
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Kaledo Art
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
dirt enthusiast
Game of Thrones Daily
Claire Keane

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JBB: An Artblog!

shark vs the universe
$LAYYYTER
Monterey Bay Aquarium
hello vonnie
noise dept.
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
styofa doing anything
taylor price
KIROKAZE

JVL

if i look back, i am lost
Cosimo Galluzzi

oozey mess
seen from Netherlands

seen from Kosovo

seen from United States
seen from Chile

seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia

seen from Spain
seen from Peru
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh

seen from United States
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seen from United States
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@riverandceliainunderland
Hieroglyphs is a living digital archive of childhood memory. A collection of individual stories from around the world, gathered together not to prove how different we are, but to explore what connects us.
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Maps do not have a beginning or an end. They start where you stand. And end where you fall.
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In the beginning, there is warmth and rhythm. A darkness that cups like hands. Gentle. Forgiving as it moulds the edges of the body. Sound is muted. A vibration without meaning. A low, gentle hum. A comfort. It doesn’t matter that there are no words to press into, no language to define or praise or
And maybe that’s the part that stayed. Not the tree. Not even the fruit really. It was never about the mangoes at all. Maybe it's a little bit about mangoes though.
“Good turnout though, dear. Good turnout.”
Guiseppe
To all the bullies, cheats and liars that came before. Give Pinocchio enough String – And he’ll hang himself Like a real man. A real man Your father forewarned you Of that – And his before that. Tears are for girls But fists that beat sunken skin And sallow eyes, Are for boys- And marionettes that dance To the beat of the trauma They never could quite Reconcile. But you cry…
Back from the Glitch...The Underland Review. Issue 3
Our Shared Vision: Emergent Expectations. A short piece on education, wellbeing, language, and the cruel cost of compliance.
A fictional procedural about care, routine, and the stories we tell children so everyone can keep pretending
Not everyone is breathing. So we tend what we can. mind may you wander #poetry #witness #hardwonpeace #gentlerdays
The Founding Fathers log back on to rewrite the Constitution—only to find a justice system powered by vibes, PowerPoint, and plea deals. Amendment VI gets a ghostly patch update, featuring civil asset forfeiture, trial-by-media, and one woman who is very tired of explaining things to men.
Untitled (Birds)
Birds fall from the sky It’s not some old dark magic Just a consequence
We are extending our deadline to February 5th! We've recieved many wonderful entries so far, add yours today!
🌀 CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS — THE UNDERLAND REVIEW 🌀 We are coming up for air after moving to Thailand. Of course that means a new Zine. We’re seeking twitchy poems, cursed microfics, feral essays, and rogue visuals. Max 1500 words. One piece per person. Deadline: December 24th 2025.
I keep mistaking stillness for mercy. It never is.
Political & sharp: We built our miracles on a bird’s last breath. #OdeToTheCanari #UnderlandDispatch
The Golden Apple
“The fields are green, the milk is plentiful, and the children are healthy.” — Pravdya, June 1986 They told us to smile. Eyes white. Teeth on show. Beam. “Ні, ні, люба. Очима. Посміхнися очима. Їм потрібно тебе бачити,” I am sorry. “No, no, darling. With your eyes. Smile with your eyes. They need to see you.” Uchytelka Mariya Yevhenivna patted my ribboned braid flat against my shoulder and…