Later last night, as the world slumbered under a blanket of stars, I found myself alone with an atlas in my lap. The pages, worn and familiar, cradled the stories of countless lands and lives. I traced the contours of continents with gentle fingers, feeling the pulse of the earth beneath my touch. In the quiet of the night, I whispered to the atlas, “Where does it hurt?” The question hung in the air, fragile and tender. To my surprise, the atlas responded, its voice a soft murmur that echoed through the stillness. “Everywhere,” it sighed. “Everywhere, everywhere.” I felt … Continue reading Whispers of the Atlas