The Weight of Still Water
The city does not sleep; it only holds its breath. In the hours when the traffic thins and the streetlamps hum, the concrete loses its hardness. It becomes something else—a mirror for the things we try to leave behind during the day. We walk…
The Distance Between Us
There is a line that separates the one who acts from the one who watches. It is a thin, invisible border, yet it holds the weight of a lifetime. We spend our days drifting between these two states. Sometimes we are the ones pulling the oar,…
The Weight of Stone
Time is not a line. It is a layering. We walk upon the bones of things that were here long before we learned to name the wind. There is a specific silence in the presence of old stone, a weight that presses against the chest, reminding us that…