The poetry of a people comes from the deep recesses of the unconscious, the irrational and the collective body of our ancestral memories.
The poetry of a people comes from the deep recesses of the unconscious, the irrational and the collective body of our ancestral memories.
My grandmothers are full of memories, smelling of soap and onions and wet clay, with veins rolling roughly over quick hands, they have many clean words to say, my grandmothers were strong.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories