Within and Between
Who gets to tell their story, whose voices are heard, and what happens when those who have been marginalised move towards the centre?
Who gets to tell their story, whose voices are heard, and what happens when those who have been marginalised move towards the centre?
What happens to the stories and traditions we inherit as they travel across generations, across borders, and through time?
I thought I was simply deciding how to frame three pieces of Hungarian embroidery. I hadn’t anticipated what would emerge from the conversation.
I thought I was simply explaining my research to an ethics committee. Instead, I found myself understanding it in an entirely new way.
There are objects that quietly accompany us through whole chapters of our lives, collecting memories until the day comes when we have to let them go.
Home is sometimes less a place than a feeling. On a warm summer’s day in Hungary, I found both through the lens of a phone.
A virtual journey through Hungary rekindles memories that were never quite forgotten, and awakens a longing to rediscover the places that have lived quietly in my imagination for decades.
A smile. A passing comment. A joke shared across supermarket aisles. For a moment, we exist in each other’s day.
It isn’t always the extraordinary moments that make us long for someone beside us. Sometimes it’s simply wanting someone to remember the shape of our days.
This poem was written as part of my Master’s thesis, Who’s Health Matters? It captures the essence of the chapter titled Summer and reflects themes of transition, hope, belonging, and the search for home.