Woven Histories

The rough bark gave way under a hand, its texture a map of concentric circles. These weren’t simple timelines, however, but layered histories – broad bands hinting at plentiful seasons pressed against tight knots marking lean ones. A soft mist clung to the branches, blurring the sharp edges where wood met air; distinctions dissolved into gradients of light and shadow. Each turn toward the sun, each weathering storm inevitably creates a new form from what remains—loss becoming integral to its enduring direction.