Bodhgaya Student by Ryszard WierzbickiThe Weight of Starch and Dust
The smell of sun-baked earth always brings me back to the feeling of a stiff, clean collar against the back of my neck. It is a dry, scratchy sensation, the kind that reminds you that you are being held together by something intentional. I…
Cherry Blossoms in Brown by Leanne LindsayThe Weight of Petals
There is a particular kind of surrender that happens when a season begins to turn. It is not a collapse, but a quiet letting go. We often measure our lives by the things we hold onto—our plans, our certainties, the structures we build to…
Air Show by Leanne LindsayLines Drawn in Thin Air
The sky is a vast, indifferent blue. It asks for nothing. We, however, are restless. We feel the need to mark it, to carve paths through the emptiness as if to prove we have passed through. We leave trails of white, temporary scars that fade…