There is a road above the town that I take sometimes before the light has fully decided what kind of morning it wants to be. The deodars on either side are still dark at that hour, their shapes more suggested than visible. The valley below…
There is a moment, in most working lives, that arrives without announcement and is not easily forgotten. Someone calls you into a room, or sends a message, or schedules a meeting with a subject line that gives nothing away, and in the next few minutes…
By the time the last light drained from the sky and the valley withdrew into its habitual quiet, the question that had accompanied me all day had grown into something that demanded a fuller honesty. I stepped back onto the verandah with the photograph in…
As the afternoon light softened, the day seemed to slow around me, and the question that had accompanied me since morning began to take on a more contemporary shape. It no longer belonged only to the photograph or to the ancient stories that had drifted…
By late morning the question had settled itself into the gentle slopes of my thinking, neither demanding nor retreating, simply existing in a way that coloured the quietness of the day. I sat with the photograph again, noticing this time not the symmetry of the…