Layers of the Ground
I spent this morning digging in my small garden patch, trying to clear out the weeds that had taken over while I was away. My hands were covered in dirt, and I kept hitting bits of old brick and rusted metal buried just beneath the surface.…
The Weight of a Second
In the quiet hours of the morning, when the house is still settling into its bones, I often find myself watching the dust motes dance in a stray beam of light. They are aimless, drifting in a slow, rhythmic suspension that defies any sense…
Stop! One at a time by Nirmal HarindranThe Weight of the Threshold
There is a specific silence that belongs to a gate left unlatched. It is not the silence of peace, but the silence of a boundary being tested. I remember the heavy iron latch of my grandmother’s garden, the way it would click into place with…