The Salt on the Wind
The taste of summer is always a little metallic, like the copper tang of a scraped knee or the dust that settles on the tongue after a long run through dry grass. I remember the feeling of air rushing past my ears, a hollow, whistling sound…
The Weight of the Sky
There is a peculiar tension in the air just before the clouds decide to break. It is a stillness that feels heavy, as if the atmosphere itself has grown tired of holding its own breath. We often speak of storms as disruptions, as violent interruptions…
The Mirror of the Wild
We spend our lives looking at the world, but rarely do we allow the world to look back at us. There is a specific gravity in being truly seen, a weight that settles in the chest like silt at the bottom of a clear stream. When a gaze meets yours…