The Weight of Still Water
I remember sitting on a wooden jetty in late October, watching a fisherman untangle a net that seemed to have more knots than rope. He didn't look up when I sat down, but after a while, he gestured toward the water. He told me that the lake…
The Weight of Transit
We are always between places. The street is a thin line drawn between where we have been and where we are expected to arrive. We carry our lives in folders, in bags, in the set of our shoulders. It is a heavy thing, this expectation of being…
The Weight of Being Small
There is a particular gravity to childhood that we often mistake for lightness. We watch them move through the world, these small, unformed creatures, and we assume they are merely passing through the surface of things. Yet, if you watch closely,…