The Weight of Water
I keep a small, smooth river stone on my desk, worn down by years of water and friction until it fits perfectly into the hollow of my palm. It is a heavy, silent thing, yet it carries the memory of a current that no longer exists. We spend…
Varanasi Flower Girls by Shikchit KhanalThe Weight of Petals
Morning arrives in layers. First, the gray. Then, the slow gold of the river. We carry things into the day, heavy with expectation, yet the hands remain open.
To hold a flower is to hold a brief promise. It does not ask for permanence.…
A Newfound Village by Shikchit KhanalThe Quietude of Distance
Seneca once remarked that travel cannot make us better if we carry our own restless minds with us, yet he also acknowledged that a change of scenery can act as a mirror to the soul. We often seek the remote, the hidden, and the inaccessible,…