The Small Death On A Saturday Afternoon
It was a Saturday afternoon, sometime after lunch. I had reached a point in my life where, outside of work, there was nothing left that truly belonged to me. Productivity,…
It was a Saturday afternoon, sometime after lunch. I had reached a point in my life where, outside of work, there was nothing left that truly belonged to me. Productivity,…
A short poem about love’s earliest moments—and how silence teaches it to cry.
A meditation on solitude, rebirth, and learning to love from a distance—where snow becomes both refuge and absolution.
One of us kept reading. The other began to move.