Our lives hold more than any record of them could ever contain. My phone flashes the warning again: Storage almost full. Again. I take a lot of photos. Not for an audience. Not to curate a flawless life. I take them to gather crumbs, breadcrumbs scattered through the forest of my days. Each image a…
Tag: regret
Bedtime Story
Perhaps the wisdom of growing older is realising that the hands we feared were empty have been holding more than we knew. When I was a little girl, about six years old, living in Helsinki, one of my mother’s dearest friends came to our home for supper. Her name was Eila. She lived nearby and…
