The Weight of Time
The earth does not speak, yet it keeps a record. We walk over the surface, oblivious to the slow grinding of stone against stone, the patient erasure of what came before. There is a violence in the water that we mistake for peace. It carves,…
The Weight of Gravity
Gravity is a constant, yet we spend our lives trying to outrun it. We walk with our heads down, measuring the distance between our feet and the pavement, forgetting that we were once capable of leaving the ground entirely. There is a brief,…
The Weight of Fading Light
I keep a small, smooth piece of sea glass in a wooden bowl on my desk, its edges softened by decades of salt and tide. It was once part of something sharp and clear, a bottle perhaps, discarded and forgotten until the ocean decided to remake…