The Threshold of Arrival
I remember standing on the tarmac in a small regional airport in the north of Scotland, the air smelling of wet heather and jet fuel. It was one of those moments where you realize you are suspended between two lives. You have left the person…
The Pause in the Ice
I remember walking through the woods behind my grandfather’s house in late January. The ground was hard, the kind of cold that makes your teeth ache if you breathe too deeply. I stopped by the creek, which had slowed to a crawl, its surface…
Got You After A Long Time by Tanmoy SahaThe Patience of the Mud
There is a particular rhythm to waiting that the city often tries to steal from us. In the rush toward the next tram or the closing of a shop gate, we forget that some things only reveal themselves when we stop moving entirely. I remember standing…