Two Hands and Time

Writer-illustrator Betsy James, in conversation with older readers

In the sand of the Ojito Wilderness, a cracked Archaic mano, a grindstone. Crystalline quartzite, red and white and yellow, with a slanted edge that provided a perfect grip. I hooked my fingers there, seeing another woman’s hand: small like mine, probably young, with broken nails.

After twenty centuries, the stone remembers that other hand.

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3 thoughts on “Two Hands and Time”

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