A Million Tiny Anchors
I spent an hour tonight trying to find my keys, only to realize they were in my coat pocket the whole time. It is funny how we look for things in the distance when they are sitting right against us. Standing by my window, I watched the streetlights…
The Weight of Color
Winter is a long forgetting. We learn to live in shades of grey, in the silence of frozen earth, waiting for the thaw to reveal what we have lost. Then, the change arrives. It is not a shout. It is a slow, insistent pressure, a color pushing…
The Weight of Flight
I remember sitting on a rusted bench in a park in Kyoto, watching a single heron navigate the wind. It didn't fight the gusts; it seemed to negotiate with them, folding its wings just enough to let the air carry it where it needed to go. There…