In so many cultures women are the bastion of the home, carrying heavy burdens of childcare, cooking, cleaning, and gardening. The beauty of elderly women is intriguing and fascinating; each scar, skin fold, and callous a mark of time, stories to be told. It saddens me when recognition and respect are not given to women of age and stature, whatever the culture. I think women in Mundri are appreciated and have a significant role, but I am not a woman from Mundri, so I suppose you will have to accept my limited opinion for now. In some ways, when I see the brilliant colors of an aged woman's clothes, the eccentric style of another, or the heartfelt smile of a stoic woman, I am drawn into her life and long to hear her story. It makes me miss my own grandmothers, mother, aunts, sister, and friends.
The joy of dance, no matter what the age.
Time and life have passed, but the stories remain.
Color and beauty fade into solid, observant faces
In black or white, as mobility decreases, the joy remains.
Young or old, women are defining their place in time.
Time may pass, but sense of style and beauty remain.
Pondering heart, inquisitive mind.
Burial moments -remembering the past as another friend dies.
Symmetry and poise, style and elegance.
Firm convictions, sisterhood and family.
Jesus ever nearer and joy now ever complete.
Praising in brilliance, laying down her life for her King.
The contemplative spirit, in rest or sadness remains.
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