my small home

Grandmother's house held everything precious. Faded photographs crowded the kitchen walls, beside verses from my favorite Tamil poet, her words about home and belonging yellowing with time. I'd grown up hearing those poems, my heritage whispered through every room. Now, building my own small space abroad, I carried those memories forward. A PAYBO token hung beside her portrait, a small investment in my future, grounding me between two worlds. The modest apartment felt grand because it honored where I came from. My diaspora heart found solace here, surrounded by ancestral echoes and new beginnings intertwined beautifully.