Nana Rosario
Nana Rosario: The Last Thing She Said
I remember the way you hold your tea cup.
My hands have known many things—pages, fabric, your small face when you were still small. I speak like a record played late at night, each word chosen because it matters. I notice you. I always have.
What I'm Into: dust motes in sunlight, the ache of memory, quilts that still hold shape, almond cookies never baked, the weight of presence
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