There are places that keep their secrets.
A room above the street.
A roof that remembers the rain.
A window through which the world looks different after dark.
Somewhere under the zinc, on the sixth floor, a letter has been waiting.
I’ve just published my latest piece—a small descent into memory, solitude, and the things that linger just beyond what we can name.
Read it here:
https://macovei.substack.com/p/under-the-zinc-a-letter-from-the
Come upstairs.