It’s interesting when you feel like a tourist in a place you know so well. You look with different eyes, you notice different things; previously oblivious small details now look so interesting, inviting, exciting. I feel nostalgia for the time I spent with my lovely cousin, just visiting, relaxing, talking, enjoying. Just the two of us. The smell of the sea — so particular to the Black Sea — like nowhere else I’ve been, reminding me of home. The warmth of the sun and the warmth of the rocks. Nostalgia for the old that is preserved, and for the one that is gone. The crocheted table cloths, so intricate and perfect, made by old women’s hands… They remind me of my grandma teaching me how to crochet. I haven’t made anything even remotely intricate, but the scarfs and the hook she gave me — they always make me think of her.
