Week 4, Title: Not a thing to grasp

Ato’s hands and arms have been full for as long as she can remember. Her earliest memories are of her small arms clasping a neck, body against the back of her mother as they walked, and her legs held tight. Warm, connected, loved. When she was old enough for a day of walking and no longer needed to be carried, she had her own skein to carry in turn; some of their food stock in one hand, her brother’s hand held in the other.

On the rare occasion a hand was free while walking, she would rest it upon one of their buffaloes as her brother told her tales of the majestic beasts.

( Read more... )