The Weight of Small Things
There is a hunger that belongs to the winter, a persistent need to find sustenance in the barren places. We often look for greatness in the grand gestures of the world, in the shifting of mountains or the turning of tides. Yet, the most profound…
The Weight of Stillness
I am generally wary of the quiet moment. We are sold a version of solitude that feels curated, a performance of peace designed to make the rest of us feel like we are failing at our own frantic lives. My first instinct was to treat this as…
The Weight of a Morning
I burned my tongue on the first sip of coffee this morning because I was too busy staring at the way the dust motes were dancing in the kitchen light. It was a Tuesday, and the house was finally quiet after the usual frantic scramble to get…