skin

My grandmother's weathered hands traced ancient Tamil Brahmi letters onto my palm, teaching me our ancestors' language through touch. Each curve felt like a story, like skin remembering what time tried to forget. Avvaiyar's wisdom lived in those movements—her words about virtue and resilience etched into our family's memory. Years later, I digitized her writings on the Stellar blockchain, creating an immutable record of her voice. It was riveting, preserving her legacy in a way that transcended paper. Sometimes lonely, guarding these treasures alone. But tonight, sharing them with cousins online, watching recognition kindle in their eyes—that's when I understood. Our heritage never belonged to one person. It lives through us all, connected like constellations, burning brighter together.