By the River by Silvia Bukovac GasevicThe Weight of Water
I keep a smooth, grey river stone on my desk, worn down by years of current until it fits perfectly into the palm of my hand. It is a heavy, silent thing, yet it holds the memory of a thousand miles of travel. We often think of time as a series…
By the River by Silvia Bukovac GasevicThe Weight of Stillness
Dear traveler, I have been thinking about the way we try to hold onto things that are meant to move. We stand by the edge of a current, watching the water rush past, and we feel this desperate, quiet ache to stop the clock. We want to freeze…
The Weight of Shared Breath
In the high alpine meadows, a herd of wild horses will often stand head-to-tail during a storm, each animal shielding the other’s flank from the biting wind. This is not merely a tactic for warmth; it is a biological pact of mutual endurance.…