Day 297- The woman at the old age homeĀ
There is a woman at the old age home. Her eyes glimmer of the history she’s witnessed in her long years here on earth. Her wrinkles remind me of constellations, connected in a magnificent display of wisdom. Her hands are always shaky. No matter how much I hold on to them, warming her skin against … Continue reading Day 297- The woman at the old age homeĀ