Reflections

October 2, 2022

The city is a machine that never sleeps. It demands movement. It demands the rhythm of feet against concrete, the rush of...

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October 2, 2022

I keep a small, flour-dusted index card in the back of my kitchen drawer, its edges softened by decades of thumbing. It...

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September 30, 2022

There is a specific texture to silence that I only recognize when I am entirely alone in a high, cold place. It...

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