The Salt on the Skin
The air by the water always tastes of salt and damp wool. It is a thick, heavy taste that clings to the back of the throat, reminding me of childhood summers where the sand felt like coarse sugar between my toes. I remember the feeling of a…
The Weight of Passing Time
We build structures of wood and stone to outlast the heat of a single afternoon. We believe these walls hold history, but they only hold the echo of those who once walked through them. A corridor is a promise of movement, a way to get from…
The Weight of Air
Gravity is a suggestion. We spend our lives tethered to the earth, measuring our days by the distance between our feet and the soil. Yet, there are moments when the body forgets its own heaviness. A leap, a sudden suspension, a breath held…