The Weight of Unshadowed Joy
There is a specific, sharp clarity to the light that arrives just before the heat of midday takes hold. It is not the soft, diffused glow of a Nordic winter, nor the heavy, bruised violet of a coming storm. Instead, it is a bleaching light—a…
The Wake of the Morning
When water is undisturbed, it acts as a perfect mirror, holding the sky in a fragile, liquid grip. Yet, the moment an object breaks the surface—a diving kingfisher or a drifting leaf—the reflection shatters, and the water begins to tell…
The Weight of the Ascent
There is a specific silence that lives in the high places, the kind that does not merely lack sound but actively consumes it. It is the silence of a mountain pass after the wind has died, where the air is so thin it feels like it might slip…