Some have been shouting, some stay silent. Everything has changed, yet one day still follows the last, much like it always has. Our burdens feel heavier, yes. But the beauty feels sharper too. Every small kindness, every gentle exchange. We are more porous somehow, risking both the scalding heat and the soothing salve of letting …
You come from the hill by the lake. It’s dotted with wooden huts that overlook the water. On long Saturdays, campers sit on towels stretched below the summer sun—barefooted, knees bent. Or toss frisbees, rest on the rise and fall of a kindred’s chest, seek shade. Come nightfall, heads tilt toward every star in a midsummer sky. …
I found myself on a flight to California the other day to visit family. As we boarded the aircraft, touching our fingertips to the fuselage, these could be my last steps on earth, I think, and then again as we slowly taxi down the runway, these, my last moments in life. Morbid, maybe, but I …
The other morning, I woke to speak with a man I’d never met. After 13 minutes of failed Google+ attempts, we got through. It was just after 5am and pitch black outside the window above the desk. I curled my legs underneath me as we smiled with relief. Conversations with strangers are so touching and intimate …
…the quiet of stealing hours from the night …of the early morning hours, when you wake, before sun, before sound …pierced only by the click-clack of keys that, for now, are typing the most dreadful first draft …of what might, one day, be a book…with a binding…that bears your name …the silent stir of your …
Dina L. Relles 