My mother and her mother in the living room, surrounded by the textures and patterns of their lives, which, eventually, disintegrate to dust, scattered by the four winds. One can almost feel the velvety sofa, crocheted threads of the piano
My mother and her mother in the living room, surrounded by the textures and patterns of their lives, which, eventually, disintegrate to dust, scattered by the four winds. One can almost feel the velvety sofa, crocheted threads of the piano