(c) Light & Composition UniversityThe Weight of Unspoken Dialects
My grandmother’s kitchen used to smell of dried mint and the sharp, metallic tang of a wood-burning stove that no longer exists. It is the specific silence of that room that haunts me now—not a quiet of peace, but a quiet of erasure. When…
(c) Light & Composition UniversityThe Weight of a Shared Secret
I keep a small, rusted tin box in the back of my desk drawer, filled with the smooth, rounded river stones my sister and I collected during a summer that feels like it belonged to someone else. Each stone is heavy with the memory of a promise…
(c) Light & Composition UniversityThe Mirror of Quiet
We spend so much of our lives looking at the surface of things, fearing the depth beneath. We treat the world like a glass pane, terrified that a single breath might shatter the order we have carefully arranged. Yet, there is a secret language…