The Iron Harvest of Dusk
We have always been a species of giants, reaching upward to scratch the belly of the sky. We plant our metal seeds in the soil, hoping to harvest the wind, to catch the invisible breath of the world and turn it into light. There is a strange,…
Sisters on the Shore by Sean Lowcay
For years I had a poster of a Thai long-tail boat on a beach at Koh Phi Phi on my wall. I especially liked to look at it in the middle of a cold rainy New Zealand winter and think about how nice it would be go there one day. Fast forward 20…
The Iron Taste of Time
There is a specific, metallic tang that clings to the back of the throat when you stand near old, rusted iron. It tastes like cold rain on a winter morning and the dry, brittle scent of oxidized history. When I was a child, I used to press…