Shadows and Horizons
Somewhere between the stillness of childhood afternoons and the rusted gates of departure lounges, a quiet wind began to pull at him. It wasn’t a map he carried, but a pulse — a knowing that the ground beneath his feet was only a chapter, not the book. His sister drifted toward the southern sun, his brother to the cobblestones of Europe, and his parents had already spent much of their lives under skies far from his own. The restlessness grew like an untended vine, searching for a wall to climb. And then came the fracture. A single day split into before and after. A goodbye at the edge of a road, a wave, a turning away — and the world folded in on itself. Two souls went with the dusk, one small hand still remained in his. He would carry both the weight and the light of that survival forever. Loss was already etched into the grain of his life. It had come before in hospital rooms, in whispered diagnoses, in empty chairs at the table. And it never ended. Now it wears a new face — the cons...