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A love letter to Rosa Flach: My Oma
A love letter to Rosa Flach My Oma Born 1894 The bloomers from your dowry, never worn, transformed into thirty napkins. Your childhood initials stitched in every corner. My granddad’s jumper unraveled the wool steamed and straightened out, transformed into three knitted jackets. Wrapped in paper under the Christmas tree for us to open. Your ebonised table in the corner of your room. Little fingers tracing Moorish geometry. The magic of the carved wood on every surface. How did a young woman get to make such a wondrous thing? Did you have to fight for letting your imagination fly?