Reflections

June 25, 2024

My grandmother’s hands were always dusted with a fine, white powder, a permanent ghost of the bread she used to knead every...

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June 23, 2024

Dear stranger, I have been thinking about the way we pass ourselves down to the ones who come after us. It is...

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June 22, 2024

There is a particular silence that belongs to the mud. It is not the silence of the forest or the heavy, muffled...

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