The Granite Breath
The air in high places tastes of cold iron and crushed stone. It is a thin, sharp flavor that settles at the back of the throat, reminding the lungs that they are guests in a kingdom of giants. I remember the feeling of granite against my palms—not…
Rocky Mountain Sunset, by Marina HofBeauty in the Horizon
Do you know when will you die? With the beginning of our life the countdown of our death begins. Everybody regards birth as beautiful and death as its exact opposite. But is it so? Not really. Take a look at the photography of this beautiful…
The Weight of Echoes
We often speak of ruins as if they were merely the absence of what once stood. We look at a fallen pillar or a hollowed arch and see only the subtraction of stone. But perhaps it is the opposite. Perhaps a ruin is an accumulation—a vessel…