always see my mother embroidering in my dreams. I get lost among the white sewn fabrics and their colorful flowers.
I see my mother whose tears wet the cloth. The tears shed at the feet of an unrequited love and when she has to prepare herself to marry someone else.
I can see her hands, which look old in the prime of their youth, embroidering. I cry in my dream. With my tears the flowers grow bigger and I sink deeper into them.
I see her trying to find a way to escape from him and I am looking for her... we are both lost in the dystopia...