These are my articles written over time. Please feel free to ask questions about any post.
August 1, 2026 — The First Sapling The siege had ended in silence. The murals—veiled in breathable cloth—stood like ghosts with open eyes. But the valley did not wait. In Jammu, Neelam arrived at dawn with a cherry sapling in a clay pot. She planted it beside the mural’s base, where the mothers’ gold pulse […]
The Orchard of Names Read More »
Peace
The wind along the East River moved with an early spring hush, carrying a chill that felt like memory rather than weather. Glass towers held the morning light in vertical rivers, and the United Nations rose among them — solemn, shimmering, expectant. Emil stepped out of the shuttle with the ledger at his side. The
The Assembly of Rivers Read More »
Peace
The plane landed at dusk, the sky over Crestview blushing between copper and cloud.By the time Emil reached Grandfather’s house, twilight had settled into the corners like old music — the kind you don’t need to play to hear. The snow had melted into streams that threaded through the garden. Moss covered the stones that
The Ledger Returns Home Read More »
Peace
The thaw did not announce itself. It arrived as a softness in the air, a looseness to the snow at the eaves, a small wetness gathering under the window where frost had held its breath for days. Morning light entered less cautiously. The mural, half-veiled for a week, seemed to breathe. Sofia came early with
The River Beneath the Ruins Read More »
Peace
The morning broke clear and soundless, the kind of light that feels temporary — as if the sky itself were hesitant to commit.Inside the shelter, the mural stretched across the wall like a second sunrise. Its colors had softened overnight; the gray had mellowed to mist, the gold pulsed faintly like slow breath. Aisha stood
The morning after the river froze and spoke in silence, Emil woke before dawn. The greenhouse smelled faintly of earth and metal, the last traces of winter clinging to its corners. The ledger lay open beside his packed bag, its final line—You do not build the river; you remember where it ran—gleaming softly in the
Departure and the Threshold Read More »
Peace
The greenhouse was nearly empty that night, its shelves stripped bare except for a few glass jars and a faint scent of basil. Frost webbed across the patched panes like veins of white ink, and the lantern on the table burned low, its flame wavering with each draft. The ledger lay open before Emil, its
The Weight of Choice Read More »
Peace
The school year neared its end, and the greenhouse—once cracked and abandoned—now breathed with steady life. Vines stretched confidently toward the repaired glass, the ledger thick with stories of what had been mended, not merely planted. But Emil knew this place, precious as it was, could not contain the lesson forever. One late afternoon, with
Scene 18: The Seed Beyond the Greenhouse Read More »
Peace
Emil paused at the greenhouse door, his hand resting on the cool metal latch. The words from last night’s dialogue still echoed in him—Ukraine, Gaza, the absences, the fires. The world’s wars had felt impossibly vast under the lamplight, a sickness of nations beyond his reach. But here, in the damp air and the smell
Mock-up Scene 16: The Fruit of the New Ground Read More »
Peace
The next morning, Emil found his grandfather already in the garden, gently tying a tomato vine to a new stake. The air was cool and carried the scent of damp earth and night-blooming jasmine. Emil had slept poorly, the grand, terrible machinery of the world grinding through his dreams. The abstract “Four Absences” had taken
The Fire Brigade and The Blueprint Read More »
Peace