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 small, shining proof that I noticed. That I felt. That I…
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…
Apples of Gold 