Just posting some random photos.

Amma's old photographs scattered across my desk felt dangerous. Brittle silk sarees, temple festivals, grandmother's vermillion-stained hands. I'd been hesitant, even annoyed, scrolling through content creators monetizing culture carelessly. But these images deserved witnessing. My trembling fingers posted them anyway, daring to share what colonization almost erased. Comments flooded in from strangers with my grandmother's eyes, my accent, my stories. The algorithm rewarded vulnerability. But better still, cousins found each other through these pixels. We recognized ourselves across oceans and years, bound by what we almost lost together.