Reflections

January 6, 2015

I remember sitting on the edge of a canal in Amsterdam with a local named Bram, who spent his afternoons watching the...

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January 6, 2015

We spend our lives gathering the debris of existence—twigs of memory, soft moss of comfort, the stray threads of conversations—trying to weave...

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January 6, 2015

There is a profound quiet that exists in the heart of a predator. It is not a silence of emptiness, but a...

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