H A N D M A D E

“One hand I extend into myself, the other toward others.”
― Dejan Stojanovic

P A L M S

“As he lifted the leather-bound cover, the musty smell of paper rose up. He turned the first mottled leaf and looked down at an elaborately drawn image. A brimming goblet was decorated with curling vines and bunches of grapes. But instead of wine or water, the cup was filled with words.
John stared at the alien symbols. He could not read. Around the goblet a strange garden grew. Honeycombs dripped and flowers like crocuses sprouted among thick-trunked trees. Vines draped themselves about their branches which bristled with leaves and bent under heavy bunches of fruit. In the far background John spied a roof with a tall chimney. His mother settled beside him.
‘Palm trees…’ she said. ‘These are dates. Honey came from the hives and saffron came from these flowers. Grapes swelled on the vine…”
~Lawrence Norfolk

C O V E R E D

When he was little she stood behind the walls and listened Unfamiliar with the sound her heart told her to stay invisible