The Quiet Weight of Earth
Why do we feel a sudden, sharp reverence when we hold the fruits of the soil in our hands? Perhaps it is because we recognize, in the curve of a root or the texture of a leaf, a history that predates our own frantic pace. We spend our lives…
The Weight of Water
I keep a small, smooth stone on my desk, pulled from a riverbed I visited when I was still young enough to believe that time was a thing you could hold in your palm. It is cool to the touch, polished by years of relentless, patient friction…
The Language of a Smile
I was waiting for the bus this morning when an older man stopped to ask for the time. He didn't have a watch, and I didn't have a reason to rush, so we ended up talking about the weather for a few minutes. He had these deep lines around his…