I sat on the bench, tired in ways I didn’t know how to fix. Something was on me, but the feeling was all in me too, and I kept asking myself whether I really needed to keep sitting there or just walk away.

I love watching a river move from the highlands to the lowlands. It begins as a quiet thread, then gathers strength as it travels, joining other rivers along the way until, at last, it reaches its destination.

I woke to the sun, its rays spilling gold across the morning, bright enough to pull me toward them before I had fully opened my eyes. There was warmth in that light, soft at first, then growing stronger

The walk through the woods should have quieted me, but it only gave my thoughts more room to breathe. Image from my gallary Above me, birds moved through the branches with effortless grace, their songs

The handle of my axe is smooth now from winters of use. Splitting green pine is tough work. It doesn't break clean; it makes a heavy, wet thud that shakes my arms. Out here, silence feels like a heavy