At the River’s Bend
Dusk leans against the bank and the water forgets its hurry. A heron fixes the world with one unblinking bead of light. Across the far reeds, someone counts under their breath—not numbers, exactly, but commas between breaths, like a rosary of pauses. A boy skims a stone and the circle widens, then loosens, then disappears into small attentions.
I watch the river practise memory. It keeps what is heavy, lets go what is bright. The cicadas begin as if re-threading a broken necklace. A fisherman touches the hull of his boat with a hand that knows the grammar of wood. He waits. We all do.
I walked home with wet cuffs and an old thought: perhaps art is learning where to place the pause. Not the note, not the image—but the hush that allows them to be heard.
Also in Library
The Joy Sorrow Cannot Foresee
Sam wakes beneath green leaves and asks whether everything sad will come untrue—but Frodo’s wounded hand already complicates the answer. This Mytharium essay explores Tolkien’s eucatastrophe, grace at Mount Doom, and the sudden joy that does not erase sorrow but denies it final authority.
What the World Remembers
July moved through walls, bodies, songs, scars, cups, pages and stones—ordinary and mythic things that remember what human beings forget. Across Angkor, the Odyssey, Tolkien, Vedic creation, Greek war and quiet domestic rooms, the Library returned to one governing question: when memory fails, what in the world continues to know us?
The Mirror, the Ledger, and the Box
Three ordinary acts—tending a mirror, keeping a ledger, reading a page—draw three voices into the same unseen machinery. In this original flash-fiction triptych by Lucas Varro, hunger becomes debt, witness becomes participation, and attention itself acquires a price. Enter through Mirror Hunger, where one rule has always been enough: do not lean close.
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On The Lantern Chronicles, I gather writings from Angkor, myth and legend, contemplative essays, and poetry — works shaped by silence, beauty, wonder, memory, and the deeper questions that follow us through the world.
It is a place for stone and story, reflection and vow, shadow and revelation.
You would be most welcome there.