More on: Kitchen Light

if the kitchen reminds of us of anything, it’s that a new day always follows the last one. And, in it, the sun will rise. And then someone will need to make breakfast: fry an egg, put the coffee on, wash and dry the dishes left to soak. If we’re lucky, the kitchen is a place we go to keep ourselves alive. If we’re luckier still, it offers an occasion to be tender: with ourselves, with someone else, with the accumulating fabric of our days. There’s weight, and grace, in the way hours stack together. The work they offer us. The waiting they demand.