Tuk Tuk Driver by Ryszard WierzbickiThe Weight of a Journey
I spent this morning waiting for a bus that was twenty minutes late. I watched the driver of a delivery truck nearby, who sat with his hands resting on the wheel, staring at nothing in particular. He looked like he had been sitting there for…
The Map of Our Years
How much of our history are we willing to carry on the surface of our skin? We often treat the body as a vessel that remains unchanged, a constant against the shifting tides of our circumstances. Yet, time is a patient sculptor, carving its…
Thai Fishing Boat by Leanne LindsayThe Rhythm of the Tides
There is a quiet dignity in things that have spent their lives working against the water. I think of the old wooden piers in Lisbon, where the salt air has bleached the timber into something resembling driftwood, and the boats that bob there,…