The Geography of a Face
We often mistake the skin for a boundary, a wall built to keep the world out. But look closer at the map of a life etched into a brow or the hollows beneath a cheekbone. These are not walls; they are riverbeds. They are the paths where joy…
The Weight of Leaving
The smell of wet earth always brings me back to the riverbank, to the heavy, damp scent of silt clinging to my skin after a long day of wading. There is a specific rhythm to moving through thick water, a resistance that forces your muscles…
The Weight of Gravity
I was standing at the top of the steep hill on my street this morning, waiting for my dog to finish sniffing a patch of clover. I watched a cyclist fly past, leaning so far into the curve that I instinctively held my breath. It looked like…