He lived in a small flat above the cliff. A kettle on the stove. A window that watched the edge where rock meets water. When someone stood too near, he crossed the road. He offered tea and time. Simple moves. The kind that steady a shaking day. He’s gone now, though his legacy will last lifetimes.

يأتي فجأةً دون أن تُطرقه. لا تُخطط له. في يومٍ ما، يتغير شيءٌ ما، ويشعر الهواء فجأةً بثقلٍ أكبر. كنت في الخامسة من عمري، أعيش في أمريكا...

It was raining. One of those mornings where no one makes eye contact. Everyone just wants to get dry, find a seat, move on.