The Weight of the Current
There is a rhythm to survival that does not rely on speech. It is found in the collective breath, in the way a dozen bodies become a single pulse against the resistance of the water. We spend our lives trying to move forward, often forgetting…
The Weight of the Horizon
In the quiet hours of the morning, before the world begins its frantic climb toward noon, there is a peculiar stillness that settles over the edges of things. We often speak of the horizon as a line, a clean division between the earth and the…
The Salt of Stillness
The air before a storm tastes of ozone and dry pine needles, a sharp, metallic tang that settles at the back of the throat. I remember standing on a dock as a child, the wood beneath my bare feet splintered and warm, vibrating with the low,…