About the work

The first thing a person loses, then gains, then loses again, is a coherent sense of their own gravity. The pull of things, the weight of things, shifts. You might wake up one morning and find your hands suddenly empty, and not know where the heft went. Or you might pick up a small, smooth stone, and discover it has become unusually heavy. It’s not the stone that has changed, of course, but the scale against which all things are measured, including the measure of an afternoon, or the measure of a single, slow swallow from a cup. The hum that drifts in from outside might be the sound of the world’s indifferent turning, or it might be the slight tremor in your own hand, aligning itself with a new, unforeseen current. It’s not a question of what the day demands, but what the day reveals about your own unexpected capacities.