The Quiet Between Buildings
I was walking home late last night, my coat pulled tight against a wind that felt like it had traveled a long way just to find me. The city streets were mostly empty, and for a few blocks, I was the only person moving. I stopped under a streetlamp…
The Weight of Being Known
I have always been suspicious of the way we sentimentalize companionship. We treat it like a soft, cushioned thing, a refuge from the sharp edges of the world. My first instinct is to recoil from any depiction of closeness that feels too rehearsed,…
Painted Silos by Leanne LindsayGiants in the Dust
When I was ten, my uncle took me to the old grain storehouse at the edge of town. It was a cathedral of corrugated iron and dust, smelling of dry earth and long-forgotten harvests. I remember looking up at the towering walls and feeling like…