The Humidity of Stillness
The air here is thick, like damp wool pressed against the skin. It carries the smell of wet earth and crushed river reeds, a heavy, sweet scent that clings to the back of the throat. I remember the feeling of walking through such places—the…
The Weight of the Horizon
To leave is a quiet act. We spend our lives gathering things—words, habits, the warmth of a room—only to find that the tide eventually demands a return. There is a specific heaviness in the air when the light begins to fail, a moment where…
Circles by Teresa Boardman
The picture was taken in Custer State Park in South Dakota. The park is on an amazing piece of land. There are no cell phone towers or power lines and airplanes do not fly overhead. I found this picture as we drove down a muddy dirt road one…