Teneō is a quiet, eerie, deeply intimate novella about a formless being surviving by occupying human consciousness, always flickering between freedom and unbearable pain. The story follows this unnamed entity as it discovers a strange new possibility, hosts that offer not just temporary refuge, but full control and, most shockingly, satisfaction. What starts as survival turns into a slow, fascinated exploration of humanity: of sensation, thought, even emotion. As the entity grows, it brushes against others like itself, raising huge questions about existence, identity, and connection. It’s a short story, but it sticks in your mind long after you put it down.

Right off the bat, I loved the opening lines. “I live for the moments in-between. Those precious seconds of flight.” That intro sunk a hook right into me. Kojo Gyan’s writing has a floaty, almost dreamlike style that fits perfectly with the narrator’s formless existence. He captures feelings, loneliness, hunger, and wonder with this sparse, rhythmic voice that’s somehow both gentle and urgent. I thought the descriptions of the city from the being’s eyes, like the “storm of senses” when inhabiting the woman in heels, were especially vivid. It didn’t feel like a human looking at humans; it felt alien, sharp-edged, new. I found myself slowing down just to savor the language.

Sometimes that dreaminess made me feel a little lost. There’s this sequence when the being meets another of its kind inside a weird “recharging station,” and for a few pages, I had no clue what was happening. The being couldn’t move, it couldn’t speak, there were voices inside its mind… it was wild but disorienting. Part of me thinks that was on purpose to make the reader feel the same confusion and fear, but it was frustrating. Still, I kind of loved that frustration. It made the moments of clarity, like when the being finally learns how to “open” its boundary and absorb energy, feel like such a hard-won victory.

Emotionally, this book surprised me. I didn’t expect to feel so much for a formless consciousness! But Gyan pulled it off. The scenes with Jeanne, especially the little things like the shower scene or the pizza moment, were weirdly beautiful. They captured this innocence, this pure joy in discovering life’s tiny pleasures. I smiled a lot, especially when the being carefully cleaned Jeanne’s messy apartment just to make her smile. There was a deep, gnawing loneliness under everything. When the being looked up at the giant ones in the sky and felt how small it still was… that hit me hard. It felt so real, even though it was so fantastical.

Teneō is one of those rare books that feels bigger on the inside than it looks from the outside. It’s strange and slow and quietly powerful. It’s for readers who like wandering, who like atmosphere and emotional resonance over fast plots. Anyone who’s ever felt a little lost or a little in awe of being alive will find something here that tugs at them.

Pages: 158 | ISBN: 1069344419