Mammamia

Category: Accessories

This poignant recollection encapsulates a profound connection with my late mother. At the tender age of four, I graced the stage in a rendition of Mamma Mia, securing the lead role due to the serendipity of my name, Mia. It marked not only my inaugural performance but tragically, the sole one witnessed by my mother before her untimely passing. Memories of our fleeting moments together are rendered larger than life in my mind, akin to the surrealist masterpiece she once introduced me to, "La persistencia de la memoria," where reality intertwines with the chaotic depths of imagination, yielding a surreal tapestry of recollection. As we journeyed homeward from the theater, I'd layed in the backseat, ensconced in the familiar scent of the car's upholstery, casting my gaze upwards towards my mother in the passenger seat. From this unique vantage point, the seats assumed gargantuan proportions, an ineffable tableau beyond the purview of AI, every intricate detail of the vehicle's interior etched indelibly in my memory. Yet, as the years advanced and I found myself once more nestled within automotive confines, the vast expanse of the headrests seemed to diminish, drawing nearer to me. All that remained were echoes of moments shared with my mother, relegated to the annals of memory. All memories with my mom became past. Yearning to imbue the spirit of this cherished perspective into the fabric of the present. Thus, I endeavor to fashion a backpack that integrating the characteristics of the car's interior leather, to recreate the unique visuals only I know.