The Weight of White
There is a specific, blinding quality to light when it hits a surface that refuses to absorb it. In the high north, we see this when the sun strikes a fresh snowfield at noon; the world becomes a singular, terrifying brightness that strips…
(c) Light & Composition UniversityThe Weight of Small Things
There is a quiet discipline in the way we prepare to eat. We gather the harvest, we arrange the vessels, we wait for the light to settle. It is a ritual of survival, yet it feels like something more. We are trying to impose order on the chaos…
The Quiet Between Walls
I spent this morning trying to organize my bookshelf, pulling out paperbacks I haven't touched in years. I found a pressed flower inside a book of poetry, its color long gone, just a brittle skeleton of what it used to be. It made me think…