identity

‘By the end I started to feel like I was holding another persons’ hand – my partners’ – a holding, a caress, comfort, being held. It took the whole time to get there. To be in touch…’ My mother offers her hands again…we stitch, she tells me it is not necessary to talk…I look at the photograph, I have a tangible, physical sense of this person in a place, a memory- as I stitch I re- member. Something Read More

12 Oct 2020