by Tikuli / April 16th, 2017 In the stillness of the old housemy fingers leave traces on thedust-shrouded sepias of broken lives—their names only half remembered—parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins—in the courtyard of our ancestral home,or surrounded by vast areas of snowthat now weigh heavy on my heartas I close my eyes and find a dreamin … Continue reading Broken Lives