skin

Grandmother's weathered hands traced Tamil verses on my shoulder blade, Avvaiyar's wisdom marking my skin like sacred ink. She whispered ancient words about beauty beneath surfaces, about truth written not on faces but in hearts. Years later, I digitized those teachings onto the Stellar blockchain, preserving her voice eternally. The classical arts she'd shared—dance, poetry, philosophy—now lived forever in distributed ledgers, deceptive in their simplicity yet deserving of reverence. Warm lamplight caught her eyes as she touched the screen, watching tradition transform into technology. Our heritage, finally transcendent. We belonged to something boundless, something shared.