The Weight of a Breath
I was walking through the park this morning when I saw a toddler chasing a pigeon. She wasn't trying to catch it, really. She was just running because the bird was moving, and her laughter sounded like a small, bright bell ringing against the…
(c) Light & Composition UniversityThe Weight of a Crumb
I keep a small, tarnished silver butter knife in the back of my kitchen drawer, its handle worn smooth by hands that stopped reaching for it years ago. It is a heavy, quiet thing, yet it carries the memory of Sunday mornings when the house…
Lovers by Shirren LimThe Architecture of Silence
In the seventeenth century, a ruler built a monument to grief, a white marble promise that death would not be the final word. We often speak of such places as grand, as heavy with history, yet we forget that stone is merely a vessel for the…