The Weight of What Remains
It is 3:14 am. The house has finally stopped settling, and the silence is heavy enough to touch. This is when the day’s armor falls away, leaving only the things we were too busy to notice under the sun. We spend our lives chasing the light,…
The Weight of the Sky
I remember sitting on a porch in County Clare, watching the horizon turn the colour of a bruised plum. My grandfather didn’t look up from his tea, even as the air grew heavy and the birds went quiet. He just said, 'The sky is deciding.' That’s…
The Weight of the Horizon
There is a specific silence that follows the closing of a door. It is not the silence of an empty room, but the silence of a room that has just been vacated, where the air still holds the temperature of a body that is no longer there. I think…