Even though I don’t believe them any more, the lies that Mama told me haunt me still
All in ancestors
Even though I don’t believe them any more, the lies that Mama told me haunt me still
An upcycled object echoes the writing process.
Time on your hands during lockdown? How about putting together a memento book for future generations?
How an old aunt crocheted violently to give vent to unexpressed feelings. She was short, black-clad, with her face and neck the leathery texture of tortoise skin, and had the indeterminate age of “ancient” in my childhood eyes.