The Quiet Between Us
There is a language that exists before words, spoken in the soft curve of a gaze or the tentative reach of a hand. We often move through the world as if we are separate, islands drifting in a vast, indifferent sea. Yet, there are moments when…
The Weight of Petals
There is a quiet violence in the way a flower unfolds. It happens in the dark, or in the soft, grey light of a morning that refuses to warm. We look at a bloom and see only the surface, the color, the symmetry. We do not see the struggle of…
The Weight of the Crossing
There is a quiet physics to the end of a day. We spend our mornings gathering momentum, filling our pockets with tasks and our minds with the noise of what must be done. But as the light thins, the world begins to shed its excess. It is a process…