Four Wading Birds by Shahnaz ParvinThe Weight of Stillness
There is a particular way water holds a memory. It does not speak, yet it keeps the shape of everything that passes through it. We move through our days with the same urgency, believing our footprints matter, believing the surface we disturb…
The Weight of Stilled Air
The smell of damp concrete always brings me back to the basement of my childhood home, where the air felt thick and heavy, like a wool blanket left out in the rain. There is a specific silence in places that were built to hold people but now…
The Weight of the Bone
The body is a house we inhabit without ever truly knowing the architecture. We trust the floorboards to hold, the hinges to swing, the walls to keep the wind at bay. Then, a shift. A slow, grinding friction where there should be fluid motion.…