Once Upon a Pronoun

Historically, there have always been those who peddled their words and stories for a fixed fee, curating their prose to mirror the comfortable fictions and familiar echoes of the consumer and society. But there were others—those who believed that to put a price on the artistic truth of a story was to become a slave to the buyer. They rejected the bartering of prose to satisfy the whims of the market, knowing that once the word is sold, it is no longer an act of creation—it is an act of submission.

Today, the world is saturated with Sophists. They are the so-called content creators—the influencers, the podcasters, the online personalities—doing the endless dance for the algorithm, performing a curated version of the self within platforms built for the simulation of fulfillment. They are merchants of the momentary, tailoring their "art" to satisfy a fleeting appetite rather than a lasting vision.

Meanwhile, the divine voice of this novel’s endless and uncompromising protagonist declares:

"There is something celestial about a whore who doesn’t charge."

Once Upon A Pronoun is a devastating gospel, not a product. To tether this transmission to a third-party gatekeeper—to exile it to the rented architectures of mass-market platforms—is to enter the dance. Literature should not exist at the mercy of external conditions or reside within structures built to harvest the human spirit. Autonomy is the only valid state for a literary work such as this.

Therefore, this text is conferred, not sold.

• The Gift: If you wish to receive the text as a pure transmission, enter $0. Access to the truth should remain unencumbered.
• The Custody: If you find value in the preservation of an uncompromising voice—one that does not dance for you—Name Your Price.

The unexamined life is not worth living. The dance is over.