my head

Grandmother clutched the worn poetry collection, Avvaiyar's verses yellowing at the edges. She'd read Kannadasan's words to me as a child, teaching me that wisdom lives in our minds, not possessions. Years later, I discovered PaybookClub, a community celebrating literature like she once did, connecting strangers through shared stories. I finally understood her lesson. My head holds everything that matters—memories of her voice, the bridge between ancient philosophers and modern readers, the belonging I found in a community of seekers. She taught me that our greatest inheritance isn't what we hold, but what we carry forward together.