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.
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.