The Roughness of Bark
There is a specific grit to the underside of a tree branch, a dry, papery texture that leaves a faint dusting of earth on your fingertips. I remember climbing the old mango tree behind my childhood home, pressing my palms against the rugged,…
The Weight of a Gaze
I was sitting on my back steps this morning, just trying to finish a book before the day got loud. My neighbor’s cat wandered over, as he often does, and sat right in front of me. He didn't want food or a pet; he just stared. It was one of…
The Weight of Stillness
Why do we assume that to be seen is to be known? We spend our lives performing for the gaze of others, convinced that our value is tied to the clarity of our presence. Yet, there is a profound dignity in the hidden, in the creatures and thoughts…