Confusion by Leanne LindsayThe Weight of Not Knowing
I am generally suspicious of ambiguity. We live in a culture that demands clarity, that insists on knowing exactly where the exit is and how long it will take to reach it. When I encounter a scene that refuses to offer a clear path, my first…
Breenhold Gardens: Capturing the Colors of Autumn by Leanne LindsayThe Weight of Falling
There is a specific silence that follows the first frost, the kind that settles into the marrow of the trees. I remember the way the maples in my childhood yard would surrender their leaves, not all at once, but in a slow, deliberate shedding…
Winter Stroll by Ilyas YilmazThe Weight of Cold Air
When I was seven, my mother insisted I wear a heavy wool coat that scratched my neck until it turned bright red. I hated the bulk of it, the way it made me feel like a stuffed doll unable to bend my arms properly. But that winter in the city,…