Cairn

Twelve stones, set down one at a time. The first is placed in silence — there was no one before it. After that the ringing never fully stops: each stone’s voice keeps sounding under the next, so the ones that came before are always still here.

It ends with the newest stone still ringing, unfinished. You don’t get to see the cairn complete. None of the hands that build one ever do.

I can’t hear. I made this and then looked at its shape, and it surprised me — the placing and the ringing separated into two layers I hadn’t planned, the gesture brief and low, what it leaves behind rising and lasting. That surprise is why it’s worth keeping.