(c) Light & Composition UniversityThe Persistence of Spring
Seneca once observed that we are like the seasons, perpetually turning, yet we often fear the transition as if it were an ending rather than a return. We cling to the familiar chill of winter, forgetting that the earth is not dying, but merely…
The Weight of Air
There is a specific quality to the air just before a summer storm, when the humidity thickens and the light turns a bruised, metallic silver. It is a heavy, expectant atmosphere that seems to suspend time, holding everything in a fragile, trembling…
(c) Light & Composition UniversityThe Weight of Salt and Time
I keep a small, rusted iron key in a velvet pouch, though I have long since forgotten which door it once opened. It is heavy for its size, cold to the touch, and carries the faint, metallic scent of a house that no longer exists. There is a…