SHK Magazine

18/01/2023

🌀

16/01/2023

16/01/2023

grief moves like the moon⁠
⁠
it goes through phases⁠
⁠
sometimes it’s a sliver⁠
waning⁠
the darkness creeping in from the⁠
right⁠
when you least expect it⁠
⁠
sometimes it takes up more space⁠
waxing⁠
you feel it just after the sun sets⁠
when you have a minute to sit down⁠
and think⁠
⁠
sometimes it’s full⁠
illuminating everything⁠
because the sun and the moon⁠
have moved close to each other in the⁠
sky

10/01/2023

Throughout his life, Albert Einstein would retain the intuition and the awe of a child. He never lost his sense of wonder at the magic of nature's phenomena-magnetic fields, gravity, inertia, acceleration, light beams—which grown-ups find so commonplace. He retained the ability to hold two thoughts in his mind simultaneously, to be puzzled when they conflicted, and to marvel when he could smell an underlying unity. "People like you and me never grow old," he wrote a friend later in life. "We never cease to stand like curious children before the great mystery into which we were born.⁠ — Walter Isaacson

23/12/2022

The boys of winter.

23/12/2022

There’s some weird things that come from being a part of a creative family. Like, how Dad used to set up lights and his video camera on tripods in the early morning of Christmas Day.

The three of us would wait on the top of the stairs. We couldn’t go down until the lighting was right.

20/12/2022

Let's dance again. Rub elbows at the dinner table. Clink glasses. It’s easy, it just involves coming back. That’s all. Come back and let's slow dance. Let’s pirouette around the room. Kick up our feet. Kiss each other's cheeks. Throw our hands up in the air about the previous year. Come back and dance with me on Christmas.

21/09/2022

If there was any religion inside those walls at all, it was the music coming from your horn. But the music is gone. We left it on Glen Road, I suppose.
In the house with the red brick and the dried-up cicadas that Nana tiptoed over in the spring.

21/09/2022

21/09/2022

If there was any religion inside those walls at all, it was the music coming from your horn. But the music is gone. We left it on Glen Road I suppose.
In the house with the red brick and the dried-up cicadas that nana tiptoed over in the spring.

11/08/2022

Young, dumb and in love.