- Vol. 03
- Chapter 06
Like papier-mâché, age has layered itself upon her; stilling the fingers in which knitting needles used to fly; adding depth to wrinkles, and confusion.
Like papier-mâché, some of the layers have mushed together, so time shifts seventy years over the course of two sentences.
Like papier-mâché there are odd cracks and the occasional bubble that something will suddenly break through, revealing the truth of her beneath.
When I show her the charm bracelet, she reaches out, touching the panniered donkey. ‘He came from Dubrovnik…’