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.
Helga Weber
My mother's hands were rough from doing the laundry, but in the evening when she stroked my hair they felt soft. They smelled of lavender.
Two voices. One memory. Recorded 0 days apart.