Echoes of Nature by Armin AbdehouThe Language of the Unspoken
When I was seven, my grandfather kept a chestnut mare named Bess in the paddock behind our house. I remember the smell of her—damp hay and something metallic, like old coins. I used to press my forehead against her neck, waiting for her to…
Echoes of Nature by Armin AbdehouThe Mirror of the Wild
There is a specific silence that follows the departure of a herd. It is not the absence of sound, but the absence of movement—the way the tall grass stops shivering, the way the dust settles back into the earth as if it were never disturbed.…
Sail the Seven Seas by Leanne LindsayThe Geography of Imagined Journeys
When I was seven, my grandfather kept a heavy, leather-bound atlas on his desk. I wasn't allowed to touch the pages with sticky fingers, so I learned to trace the coastlines with my eyes instead. I would fold scraps of notebook paper into triangles,…