The Weight of What We Build
Dear stranger, I have been thinking about the things we leave unfinished. We spend our lives stacking one day upon another, hoping the structure holds, hoping the roof we build over our heads is strong enough to keep out the rain. There is…
The Tallest Thing I Knew
When I was seven, my grandfather took me to the edge of the harbor to show me the lighthouse. I remember the way the paint peeled in long, sun-baked strips, and how my neck ached from trying to find where the top met the clouds. To a child,…
The Quiet After the Storm
I remember sitting in a small tea house in the mountains of northern Iran, watching an old man stir his glass with a silver spoon. The room was dim, smelling of damp wool and woodsmoke, but a single shaft of afternoon sun cut through the dust…