Reflections

December 8, 2016

I remember a Sunday in a small kitchen in Nicosia where the air smelled of burnt sugar and patience. My host, a...

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December 8, 2016

There is a quiet rhythm to the changing of the leaves, a gentle turning inward as the air begins to sharpen. We...

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December 8, 2016

Everything that stands tall was once a seed, and everything that glows was once a flicker of intention. We often view the...

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