A letter to my great-grandmother that I never met
How can I reach you? I’ve been singing your song for days now, waking up in the middle of the night, my mind humming away without me, calling you. Speak to me. I am singing to go back to that time before you gave birth to us; when you were just a girl sitting in the frame of the door, looking at the sky, singing in Alexandria, Romania, 1886.
The melody of your song haunts my sleep, it’s becoming almost unbearable that the words won’t come to me. They are right there but never arrive at my lips. All I have is these…