Reflections

January 16, 2024

There is a specific silence that follows the first frost, the kind that settles into the marrow of the trees. I remember...

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January 15, 2024

When I was seven, my mother insisted I wear a heavy wool coat that scratched my neck until it turned bright red....

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January 15, 2024

There is a peculiar physics to the way we move through a landscape when the temperature drops. We pull our coats tight,...

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