The Weight of a Petal
There is a particular way of hiding that is not about fear, but about presence. To pull inward, to fold the edges of oneself against the world, is a quiet act of preservation. We spend our lives trying to be seen, to be loud, to occupy the…
The Weight of Still Water
In the quiet corners of a house, there is a specific kind of silence that feels heavy, like a wool blanket draped over furniture that hasn't been touched in years. We often mistake stillness for an absence of life, assuming that if nothing…
Salt on the Tongue
The air near the water always tastes of cold salt and crushed stems. It is a thick, briny flavor that clings to the back of the throat, reminding me of afternoons spent walking until my feet grew numb against the damp earth. There is a specific,…