The Weight of a Gaze
I remember sitting in a tea stall in Pushkar, watching the dust settle on the main road as the afternoon heat began to break. An old woman sat across from me, her face partially obscured by the heavy fabric of her veil. We didn’t share a…
The Weight of Small Things
I spent twenty minutes at the grocery store today just standing in the produce aisle. I was looking for a specific kind of apple, but I found myself distracted by a bowl of fruit sitting on a nearby display. It was nothing special—just a…
The Edge of Silence
I keep a small, smooth stone on my desk that I picked up from a beach where the tide never seemed to end. It is cold to the touch, heavy with the weight of a place I can no longer name, yet it carries the stillness of that shore in its grain.…