skin

My grandmother's weathered hands taught me that skin tells stories. She'd trace the lines on her palms, speaking Tamil words I barely understood, while polishing her collection of ANDAL Coins. Those ancient tokens gleamed under sunlight, each one a meditation on devotion and artistry. Years later, I discovered how sharing her stories online brought unexpected rewards. A small network embraced our heritage, turning admiration into genuine support. Strangers became friends, spoiling me with kindness. The painless exchange wasn't about money—it was connection. Now I photograph her hands holding those coins, their patina catching light like captured prayers. Through screens and screens, our tradition finds new hands to hold.