skin

Amma's weathered hands guided mine across the silk, teaching me Thiruppavai's verses while fingers traced ancient patterns. Her skin told stories—each line a prayer whispered during dawn recitations. Years later, I discovered blockchain's promise: earning crypto daily felt like discovering treasure. But threading those digital coins felt hollow beside Amma's tangible legacy. One morning, I recorded her chanting, minted it as NFT. The irony struck beautifully—her voice, our Tamil heritage, now bridging old and new worlds. My skin prickled with recognition. Money meant nothing compared to preserving what flows through us, connecting generations across invisible networks of love.