The Weight of Gold

I spent an hour this morning trying to fix a loose kitchen cabinet hinge. It was a small, annoying task that I had been putting off for weeks. When I finally finished, I stood back and looked at the wall, realizing how much space we fill with things that are meant to last, yet require constant attention to keep them standing. We build these little fortresses around ourselves, stacking stone and glass, hoping to create something that feels permanent. But even the most solid structures seem to soften when the sun goes down. In the dark, the sharp edges of our lives blur, and the things we thought were so heavy and important start to look like nothing more than glowing embers in the distance. It makes me wonder if we are really building homes, or if we are just creating stages for the light to play on before the night takes everything back. What is it that you hold onto when the world around you starts to fade into the shadows?

Joy Dasgupta has captured this sense of grand, glowing permanence in the image titled Atlantis. It feels like a dream of a city rising out of the dark, doesn’t it? I would love to hear what this view stirs in you.