Wherever you are — writing, walking, waiting for tea to steep — this piece is for you. A small acknowledgment that someone saw your name and recognized a world inside it.
Here’s a short piece written for : For Markéta B. Woodman marketa b woodman
And perhaps that’s why I imagine you as someone who listens more than most. To the pause between words. To the creak of floorboards in an old house. To what people almost say before they say something else. Wherever you are — writing, walking, waiting for
There are names that feel like thresholds, and yours is one of them. Markéta — soft, central European, carrying the warmth of a hand reaching across a table. B. — a hinge, a pause, a private letter that holds whatever you choose to place behind it. Woodman — sturdy, English, the sound of someone who works with their hands and knows the grain of things. Woodman And perhaps that’s why I imagine you