(c) Light & CompositionThe Weight of Petals
I keep a pressed violet inside a heavy dictionary, its color long ago surrendered to the pages. It is brittle now, a ghost of a bloom that once held the weight of a summer afternoon. When I touch it, I am reminded that beauty is not a permanent…
The Weight of Color
Winter is a long negotiation with gray. We wait for the thaw, for the moment the earth decides to speak again in a different tongue. When the first color arrives, it is not a celebration. It is a shock. It demands a place in a world that has…
The Weight of the Present
Epictetus often reminded his students that we are not disturbed by things themselves, but by the views we take of them. We tend to overlook the simple, immediate reality of an object, preferring instead to project our own complex narratives…