The Memory of Mud
The smell of wet earth after a sudden monsoon rain is not just a scent; it is a weight that settles deep in the lungs. It tastes of iron and ancient, cooling stone. When I was a child, I would press my palms into the riverbank, feeling the…
In the Midst of Multiple Worlds
Have you ever felt there is a certain reality outside everyone?
For me, I feel like a solid mass occupying a certain volume; affected by heat and cold, wind and waves, and much more. I sense a certain reality around me, albeit, if only when…
The Weight of the Infinite
We spend our lives looking down. At the path, at the frost, at the small debris of our own making. We forget that the earth is merely a vessel, drifting through a vast, indifferent cold. To look up is to admit a certain defeat. It is to acknowledge…