On fallen leaves, the work of winter, and remembering that we will die By November, the leaves underfoot have stopped looking like individual leaves. They lie in wet layers, copper over black, the newest ones still bright enough to catch what little light there is. Pull one back and you
On rain, soil bacteria, springtails, and overhearing a conversation in the ground
Sorting books before a move, with E. H. Carr looking over my shoulder
On attention, memory, and what takes shape when someone speaks to an AI.
On how a relationship stops being something we have and becomes something we are
Packing my bedroom for my first home, I started noticing what things do with us: affordances, taskscapes, and the open boxes.
A mushroom, a conversation, and the relationships our categories leave outside the frame.
On perception, participation, and the extraordinary strangeness of ordinary reality.
What draws me this October: cottages, gardens, gentleness, open country, and room for awe. A visual letter about embodied life and the relationships that give it meaning.
Must something love us back for an encounter to matter? On the sea, art, AI, and finding meaning without mistaking it for returned affection.
Walt Whitman, Genesis, Job, and the difficult art of loving creation without demanding that everything within it be good.
We construct entire worlds of meaning, but our interpretations do not make us sovereign over reality. A reading of Genesis 1–4 explores human limits, responsibility, violence, mercy, and the consequences that ripple beyond us.