skin

My grandmother's hands trembled as she traced the kolam patterns on my forearm with henna paste, her fingers remembering decades of Tamil traditions. I'd joined PaybookClub months ago, seeking connection across continents, discovering how classical arts bind scattered souls. The festival season brought us together, video calls lighting up screens in Toronto, Chennai, and London. We shared stories between song lessons and dance videos, our shared heritage blooming through screens like festival flowers. My skin became canvas and conversation, each line a bridge between worlds, reminding me that home lives everywhere our community gathers.