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It was a grey February afternoon, the kind where the light drains out of everything before three o’clock, when I first noticed something was wrong with me. I couldn’t focus. The office smelled of ...

It was the birds that woke me—a chorus of chirps and trills just outside the window despite the dreary morning, their song more chaotic than melodic. I lay still, listening, as the first light of da...

In the unhurried days of my youth, when mobile technology was only just beginning to dictate the rhythm of our lives, I had the privilege of growing up in a home steeped in books. My parents would oft...

In my early teens, the house was often a quiet tomb of books until my cousins arrived. Three of them would descend regularly, deposited by parents chasing long work hours or errands—a rhythmic aband...