The Weight of Morning

The kitchen is quiet. The sun has not yet climbed the wall, but it is coming.

There is a rhythm to the start of a day that requires no words. A folding of edges. A softening of heat. We prepare the table as if we are preparing an altar for the hours to follow. We do not think of the hunger. We think of the texture of the air, the way the light catches the dust motes, the way a simple thing can hold the entire weight of a morning.

We are what we consume. We are also what we leave behind on the plate.

To eat is to acknowledge the passing of time. To cook is to hold it still for a moment, golden and warm, before it disappears into the body.

What remains when the hunger is gone?

Larisa Sferle has captured this quiet ritual in her image titled Simple Crepes. She finds the grace in the everyday, turning a small, folded thing into a landscape of light. Does the warmth still linger for you?