Foz
Foz is from Somalia. She steers my mother slowly across the care home lawn. A ship of state adrift on a sea of green. “Here are my two favourite girls,” I call from the shade of the arbour. Because if…
Poetry, bikes, dementia care...
Poetry, bikes, dementia care...
Foz is from Somalia. She steers my mother slowly across the care home lawn. A ship of state adrift on a sea of green. “Here are my two favourite girls,” I call from the shade of the arbour. Because if…