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.
Tryntsje de Vries
My mother's hands smelled of soap and butter. Sometimes also of the garden — of earth and the herbs she picked. In the evening I could smell her hands on the sheet.
Two voices. One memory. Recorded 0 days apart.