It is a delicate thing, this business of breathing. We rush through traffic, through toast, through words swallowed before they can fully form on the tongue, as if life were a train we are perpetually about to miss. But what about the heart? The heart is not a station platform. The heart is a quiet room. You deserve a slow love. The kind of love that takes off its coat without being asked, that sits on the rug by the fire and does not check the time. Uncomplicated. Like water in a glass, simply water, nothing hidden in its depths … Continue reading A Quiet Certainty

September, are you already here, tearing open the heavy blanket of winter with your impatient green hands? The cold is bleeding out, a tired gray dampness lifting from the earth, and we are left naked, standing at the door of a month that is a secret whispered inside a closed mouth. There is an anguish in the blooming, yes, but it is a delicate anguish—like a ripe fruit splitting open on the kitchen counter, offering its sticky flesh to the ants. September, you are a profound silence that demands to be heard. You are the exact moment the first stubborn … Continue reading September