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Angad Arts Hotel
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Two jars of Smucker’s jelly, painted with love and admiration. Familiar, domestic, almost ordinary—but beneath their surface is a story of survival.
Beside them hangs a letter written by my father, decades after his time as a prisoner of war in the Philippines during WWII. One night, starving and near collapse, he saw them—clear as day—a perfect rack of jelly jars, their labels legible, glowing. A cherry tree in bloom. An oriole in its branches. His mother’s kitchen, warm with memory. The pain lifted. He slept. And woke ready to go on. Dreams, Hallucinations; art and story; reflects on what sustains us. Memory becomes nourishment. A hallucination becomes grace. Even the simplest things—fruit, jars, home—can carry us through the unthinkable. *Read the Letter Here* |
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