A wanderer of cities, a keeper of silences, Miguel Santiago writes from the salt-kissed edges of Viana do Castelo—where the Atlantic’s strength threads his verse. His pen bends to the cadence of a restless soul: fiction and free verse bloom like tidal things, mapping solitude’s quiet cartography and the ache of roads walked alone.
His words, shared on Medium.com, have drifted into the hands of the kindreds—those who recognise the bruises of life’s stumbles, the slow alchemy of turning pain into words. Raised between departures and returns, his work is a half-shadowed, half-flame lighthouse built from the stones of exile and the ink of resilience. To read him is to trace the scars of a pilgrim, to find your breath caught between his lines.
Bleached Bones and Bitter Figs
From the Ashes of an Unknown Burning SoullessIn “Bones and Bitter Figs”, Miguel Santiago invites you on an unflinching journey through the fractured landscapes of our shared humanity. This evocative collection delves into the marrow of memory, unearthing sacred decay and generational wounds that...
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