February XXIV

The Upper Rows

A rooster in a charcoal wool overcoat seated alone on the stone upper tiers of an ancient Roman amphitheater at night, the vast empty arena curving below, a lantern burning warm to his right, the cold winter sky above

The ancient amphitheater does not distinguish between its centuries. He chose the upper seats — not for economy, but because distance softens things to their proper proportion. When the flame went out, the stone received the silence as it always has: without hurry, without comment.

24 February 2026

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After the Flags Come Down

The Patient Return