The Weight of Floating
In the quiet hours of the evening, when the heat of the day finally begins to retreat into the soil, we are often struck by the fragility of our own gravity. We spend our lives tethered to the earth, measuring our existence by the weight of…
The Weight of Footprints
We walk until the tide claims the path behind us. It is a strange habit, this need to look for what is already gone, or perhaps for what was never there to begin with. The sand holds a memory for a few seconds, a brief indentation of weight,…
The Weight of Turning
We are told that time is a river, something that flows away from us. But standing in the dark, watching the stars trace their slow, cold arcs across the sky, it feels different. It feels like a wheel. A heavy, iron thing that turns whether…