These are my articles written over time. Please feel free to ask questions about any post.
The school was quiet that evening, its hallways hushed after the fire’s chaos. Emil lingered in the courtyard, the scorched greenhouse wall now half-covered with the mural students had begun. Priya approached, her notebook tucked under her arm, the faint glow of the solar lamp reflecting in her glasses. She sat beside him on the […]
The greenhouse stood resilient under the late May sun, its glass panes gleaming with the labor of care—repaired cracks catching the light like scars turned into stories. Inside, the air hummed with the quiet rhythm of growth: vines climbing their stakes, sensors blinking steadily, and the ledger lying open on its wooden table like scripture.
The Shadow of the Old Order Read More »
Life Challenges
The house was quiet except for the ticking of the clock and the faint drip of rain on the eaves. Emil sat at the table, the ledger open before him. Its newest page held Priya’s careful script: “Governance is a stake in the ground. Mercy, justice, and trust are what climb upon it.” He traced
The Trellis and the Storm Read More »
Justice, Life Challenges
The Forum met in the old library, its cracked windows patched with tape, the smell of dust and ink thick in the air. At the center lay the ledger, its pages already filled with records of seeds planted, quarrels resolved, and offerings exchanged. But today, the entries would not be about soil or plants. Today,
The Grammar of Governance Read More »
Politics
The house was still, the only sound the tick of the old wall clock and the faint whistle of wind pressing against the shutters. Emil sat at the kitchen table, staring into the dark swirl of milk at the bottom of his glass. His hands, still stained from the greenhouse soil, gripped the cup as
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
The lamps burned low in the little house, shadows of fig leaves trembling against the window. Emil sat at the table, his fingers tracing idle patterns across the wood grain. The day’s work in the forum still pulsed in his mind—the circle of chairs, the ledger passed hand to hand, the first fragile proposals like
From Blame to Diagnosis Read More »
Peace