The Weight of Departure
To leave is to lose the scale of things. On the ground, a street is a boundary, a wall, a history of footsteps. We measure our lives in the length of a block or the height of a fence. But from a distance, the architecture of our existence flattens.…
The River of Light
There is a rhythm to the world that persists even when we are moving at our fastest. We often think of stillness as something found only in the deep woods or the quiet of a garden, but there is a different kind of stillness to be found in the…
The Weight of Wool and Wind
The air in high places has a sharp, metallic tang, like licking a frozen spoon. It settles deep in the lungs, a cold weight that reminds you exactly where you are. I remember the feeling of coarse, hand-spun wool against my cheek—the way…