The Hum of Stillness
There is a specific hum that lives in the marrow of my bones when the world goes quiet. It is not a sound, but a vibration—like the low, steady thrum of a heavy wool blanket pulled tight against the skin on a winter night. I remember the…
Colorado River by Sergiy Kadulin
I was visiting Grand Canyon in Arizona for the first time in my life in October, 2012. My wife suggested we take helicopter flight over canyon. It were five tourists in the cabin, and I was lucky to be front seated, next to pilot window. I took…
Salt on the Skin
The memory of the sea is never in the eyes; it is in the grit of salt drying on your collarbone. It is the way the air feels thick and heavy, like a damp wool blanket draped over your shoulders after a long day in the sun. I remember the taste…