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FROM THE ASHES OF AN UNKNOWN BURNING SOULLESS In ""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 bind us all. From the carnival of self-delusion where blessed professionals dance with painted masks to the apocalyptic spectacles where even madness finds its truth, Santiago's poetry reflects the places we've bled, broken, and sought redemption. ""SOMETIMES WHEN WE WANDER LOST, WE FIND OURSELVES IN ALL THE PLACES WE NEVER THOUGHT TO LOOK."" Traverse the liminal spaces between darkness and light, where consciousness unravels and societal decay seeps into the foundations of our world. Through visceral imagery and raw emotion, these poems grapple with personal dissolution, moral collapse, and the ghosts we carry within us. Encounter the haunting echoes of smokeless cities, silent screams behind closed doors, and phantoms lingering at the edges of perception. Yet, within the ruins, there's a relentless pursuit of meaning, connection, and the possibility of renewal. ""THESE POEMS ARE NOT JUST LAMENTATIONS-THEY PROVE THAT EVEN IN OUR MOST PROFOUND DARKNESS, WE STILL SEEK MEANING, CONNECTION, AND DARE TO SPEAK OUR TRUTH."" ""Bones and Bitter Figs"" is a profound exploration of the human condition-a tapestry woven with stark honesty and undeniable resilience. Miguel Santiago's debut collection is a powerful reminder that in our breaking, we find our beauty; in our scars, stories of survival; and in our alleged existence, the most profound connections. MAY THESE WORDS FIND MEANING FOR YOU.

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9781037108105

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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.

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