Scissor Shearing by Jose Miguel AlbornozThe Rhythm of the Blade
Why do we feel the need to strip away the layers that define us, as if the essence of a thing only reveals itself once the exterior is discarded? There is a profound, almost sacred violence in the act of shedding. We see it in the changing…
A Perspectives by Aman Raj SharmaThe Weight of Small Things
When I was seven, my uncle took me to the edge of the marshlands behind his house. He told me to stand perfectly still and watch the mud. I thought he was joking, because mud is just dirt and water, a thing to be walked over or washed away.…
Glowing bandstand by Daz HamadiThe Music of Empty Spaces
When I was seven, my grandfather took me to the town square on a Tuesday evening. The bandstand was empty, stripped of its brass players and the heavy velvet curtains that usually smelled of damp wool and old wood. I remember running my hand…