Filters (0)
Collection
Craft
Serai, by Tula
My ‘pitara’ of memories is not in the shape of a box. Mine is a shape-shifting cumulous cloud made of wispy scents and fleeting echos.
I have a tapestry that changes weaves at whim, a sum of its parts, but never a whole- a pocketful of carmine “lucky beans” and cherry toes peaking from beneath polyester curtains. Of the disappointment of never making a long jump stick, and the sticky joy of jade green disks that melted into a minty mess in the mouth-
I still look for them now.