Green in between Red by Taufik GustianThe Crispness of Waiting
The smell of a cold apple is the smell of autumn before it has even arrived. It is a sharp, clean scent that cuts through the humidity of a heavy afternoon, promising a snap that vibrates through the jawbone. I remember the way the skin felt…
The Echo of the Pulse
There is a moment before the sound begins, when the air in a room thickens. It is a heavy, expectant silence that gathers in the lungs of everyone present. We go to these places to be part of a larger pulse, to lose the singular rhythm of our…
A Touch of Faith by Luis Alberto Poma CriolloThe Weight of a Whisper
When I was seven, my grandmother kept a small, smooth stone in her apron pocket. She told me it was for the moments when the world felt too heavy to carry alone. She didn't pray in the way the adults on television did, with loud voices and…