The Threshold of Elsewhere
There is a specific weight to the threshold of a house you no longer inhabit. It is not the wood or the iron that stays with you, but the way the light used to fall across the floorboards at four in the afternoon, illuminating dust motes that…
Fireworks at Dashehra Diwali Mela by Matthew OrlinskiSparks in the Dark
I spent half of this morning trying to fix a string of lights that refused to turn on. I sat on the floor, untangling the wires, feeling a bit annoyed at how easily things break. Then, I looked up and saw the dust motes dancing in a sliver…
The Weight of Quiet
When I was seven, my grandmother took me to the cathedral in the center of town. I remember the heavy oak doors, which felt like they were holding back a different kind of air, one that smelled of cold stone and old wax. My grandmother walked…