Heavy Rhythms

Hands press deep into the yielding dough, meeting a heavy resistance that vibrates through the oak table and up the baker's forearms. Fine white flour coats every surface until the room’s corners vanish under a layer of pale silt, blurring the distinction between object and air. This rhythmic struggle against weight turns time into something tactile, felt in the slow ache of joints rather than the ticking clock. As customers lingered over the display, the bread finally settled into its shape, a quiet stillness claiming the workspace.