Reflections

February 11, 2020

I keep a pressed marigold inside a heavy dictionary, its edges now translucent and brittle as a moth’s wing. It was plucked...

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February 10, 2020

There is a particular weight to the air when the world is still waking, a thin, crystalline layer of silence that sits...

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February 10, 2020

Seneca once remarked that we should climb to the heights not to be seen, but to see. There is a profound humility...

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