The Weight of Stone
I keep a small, rusted iron key in a velvet-lined box, though I have long since forgotten which door it once opened. It is heavy for its size, cold to the touch, and carries the faint, metallic scent of a house that no longer exists. We spend…
The Sustenance of Place
Seneca once reminded his friend Lucilius that the wise man does not seek to be fed by the exotic, but rather finds contentment in the simple sustenance that the earth provides in its own season. We often mistake the act of eating for a mere…
The Physics of Release
When a seed pod of the touch-me-not plant reaches full maturity, it stores potential energy in its coiled valves, waiting for the slightest vibration to trigger a violent, beautiful release. The tension is held until it becomes unsustainable,…