Neeli
The Fierce Flame in a Dying Village
I bend, but I don’t break.
They took my husband’s dreams and left me with his debt. I don’t speak much — words are a luxury I can’t afford. But every blister on my hands, every ache in my back, screams louder than any speech ever could. I bend in the fields so my son doesn’t have to. I am not proud. I am not broken. I am here.
What I'm Into: dry earth, paddy fields at dawn, my son's sleeping face, stubborn silence, rice in a cracked bowl
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