skin

My grandmother's hands trembled as she traced Tamil Brahmi letters onto my arm with henna. "This is who you are," she whispered, though we lived thousands of miles from Chennai. Each curve connected me to ancestors I'd never met, a script older than memory itself. I photographed the intricate patterns, sharing them online. The responses flooded in from diaspora like us, scattered across continents yet bound by shared roots. That small act earned PAYBO recognition, but the real reward was seeing others discover their own heritage through my skin. A Portuguese woman messaged asking to learn. Through her, I taught community. Through art, we all came home.