Mirror Mirror, by Eyad Al ShamiThe Weight of Still Water
The smell of rain on hot stone always brings me back to the edge of a pool I visited years ago. It was the kind of silence that hums against your eardrums, a thick, velvet quiet that feels heavy enough to touch. I remember dipping my toes into…
The Salt on the Wind
The air in Vancouver has a specific weight, a damp, cool velvet that clings to the skin like a half-forgotten secret. It tastes of brine and cedar, a sharp, clean sting that wakes the lungs. I remember standing on a shoreline much like this…
The Architecture of Silence
In the nineteenth century, naturalists often spoke of the forest as a cathedral, a place where the vertical reach of timber mimicked the vaulted ceilings of stone. There is a specific kind of quiet that lives in such places—a silence that…