The Echo of Geometry
We often speak of history as a linear march, a sequence of dates etched into stone or ink. Yet, when we stand in the presence of something built to endure, we realize that time is not a line, but a series of concentric circles. Think of the…
The Morning After the Storm
I woke up this morning to the sound of water dripping off the eaves. It had poured all night, a heavy, restless rain that made the house feel small and isolated. Usually, I find that kind of weather a bit gloomy, but when I stepped outside,…
The Unspoken Language of Being
There is a clarity that exists only in the beginning of things, before the world has had the chance to name them or weigh them down with expectation. It is a quiet, wide-eyed state of grace. When we are very young, we do not look at the world…