The Weight of Woven Threads
The smell of damp wool always brings me back to the winters of my childhood, when the air was thick with the scent of woodsmoke and wet earth. It is a heavy, grounding smell, one that clings to the fibers of a sweater until it feels like a…
Waiting for the Next Train
I missed my bus this morning by exactly ten seconds. I stood there on the curb, watching the tail lights fade into the gray morning mist, feeling that familiar sting of irritation. But then, I just stopped. I leaned against the brick wall of…
The Art of Standing Still
I stood on the train platform this morning, watching everyone around me check their phones every ten seconds. We are so afraid of being caught doing nothing. I caught myself doing it too, scrolling through emails that didn't need answering,…