Wim Bakker
My mother's hands were rough from working in the stable. But when she tucked me in at night they felt soft and smelled of soap.
◆ A recognition
They never met.
They shared this.
Tell me something about your mother's hands. The smell, the shape, what they did.
Maria du Toit
I remember my mother's hands smelled of soap and dough. When she hugged me, I always smelled her. Hands that smelled of work, of home.
Two voices. One memory. Recorded 0 days apart.