Matryoshka

There is always a voice behind every song, a face behind every mask, a story behind every story.
This entry is one of those.
One of the persons I texted today when I saw that my article had been published was Sue...which is relatively no surprise since she is one of my best(est) friends. Buddy talk aside, I had to text her because she actually inspired me...by giving me a rare chance to see myself.
On that week after Christmas and before New Year, we met up with high school friends in a beach up north about an hour away from the city. We waited until the sun was not too hot and then decided to go for a walk. She has been into photography for a long time and her sister Khan claims her photographs can merit a good space in Biology books. Her hobby had rubbed off on me a bit so while everybody else was busy burying a friend of ours in the sand, in a bid to help him reach Brazil, I had drifted off to the shoreline, trying to get some good shots.
About a month later, we exchanged pictures and I found this among her stash.

She had captured a part of me which was bitter yet hopeful, sad yet happy and a little confused between the words ''foolish" and "brave." For that, I thank her.

It was only yesterday that I was telling my mother about this set of dolls from Russia. Each doll in the set is actually a container which holds a smaller version of itself so that opening one big doll reveals a smaller doll inside which, in turn, hides another smaller version of it inside. These dolls are known as matryoshka.