(c) Light & CompositionThe Weight of a Smile
I was walking home through the park this morning when I saw a toddler drop his ice cream cone. I braced myself for the inevitable wail, the sudden collapse of a small world. But he didn't cry. He just looked at the mess on the pavement, then…
The Weight of a Run
I remember a dusty afternoon in a village outside of Jaipur where the air felt thick enough to hold onto. A group of boys were chasing a hoop made of rusted wire, their laughter cutting through the heat like a sharp blade. One of them tripped,…
The Weight of Wet Wool
The smell of rain on hot earth is a heavy, metallic perfume that clings to the back of the throat. I remember the feeling of damp cotton against my skin, the way a school uniform turns into a second, shivering layer when the clouds finally…