The Hollow Vessel
In the quiet corners of a department store, we often find ourselves surrounded by figures that mimic the human form but lack the weight of a pulse. They are shells, dressed in the latest fashions, standing in a state of perpetual, frozen grace.…
The Weight of Wings
We measure time by the ticking of clocks, but the earth measures it by the slow decay of leaves and the sudden, frantic pulse of a wing. There is a fragility that demands nothing from us. It does not ask to be understood. It does not ask to…
The Weight of Hollow Spaces
The air in an empty room has a specific density, a coldness that settles against the skin like damp wool. I remember the feeling of standing in a hallway where the silence was so thick it tasted of iron and old dust. It is a physical ache,…