~featuring Celia Pym
Close your eyes. Imagine a set of twins. One is fair-haired, the other one dark. One cheeky, one serious.
One, an artist. The other, master of stick drawings.
seeing the humanity and joy in our everyday
One, an artist. The other, master of stick drawings.
After a year of daily lunchbox packing, there followed a blissful break when my 2 older children were in ‘infants’ – that part of schooling when you benefit from free meals. My 3rd child, a baby, finally rejoiced some undivided attention and maybe a few more elaborate meals.
September last year I found myself back on the lunchbox wagon. Continue reading “On Lunchboxes”
She was fifty years old, she had the bluest eyes and thick short hair. We never spoke much. Back then, we each spoke different languages. She liked to sit in her chair by the window, in the tiny kitchen, with a permanent coffee in her hand and sometimes a cigarette. I often stayed in the kitchen with her. I would take pictures and listen. Sometimes I would wash up. Ania loved to cook but hated washing up. Continue reading “On Love”