Anna van der Berg
My mother's hands always smelled of soap and butter from cooking. Sometimes of the garden, of thyme. In the evening I could smell her hands on the sheet.
◆ A recognition
They never met.
They shared this.
Tell me something about your mother's hands. The smell, the shape, what they did.
Greta Schmidt
My mother's hands smelled of soap and flour, sometimes of the garden — of earth and herbs. When she tucked me in at night, her scent stayed on the pillow.
Two voices. One memory. Recorded 0 days apart.