The Weight of Still Water
There is a specific kind of quiet that only arrives when the wind stops its restless wandering. We often mistake silence for an absence, a void waiting to be filled by the noise of our own making. Yet, if you sit long enough by a body of water,…
The Weight of Iron
We often speak of memory as if it were a ghost, something diaphanous that drifts through the hallways of the mind, prone to fading with the light. But there is a different kind of memory—the one that occupies space. It is the memory of the…
A Rainy Walk
Town is quiet, too cold to walk alone, strangers in overcoats hurry on home. Some hurry on to catch the train; some need the rain to disguise them. The tears in their eyes, and the soul they bear, they need rain to wash them clear. They need…