i’ve had an immense love for henna since i was 13 years old. one of my favorite haunts was an indian boutique that offered henna as well. when i begun working there 6 years later, i fell hard for the bold and beautiful art form. i would forgo pay for hennaed hands and bindis, savoring the heavy herbal scent and the slight tickle of the paste as it landed on my skin. every summer my hands and feet would be stained bright red with paisleys and flowers, accenting the bangles on my wrists and the indian skirts i favored back then. it was a way for me to express a sensuality that i normally suppressed behind my modesty. for me to be bold in spite of my shyness. it was my connection to my kemetic ancestry through the tip of a henna cone. several years later, on my last night in senegal, i was blessed to have a wolof sister named adam do henna designs on my hands and feet. the designs were very different from the very floral indian designs i was used to, but her geometric patterns were dope just the same. when i came home, i took a piece of senegal with me, imbued with a connection to my sisters and the culture we shared. where my henna normally lasted about 2 weeks, her designs lingered for 6 months! i haven’t had henna since then, and my hands are itching for a fresh coat. until then, i’ll longingly gaze at photographs til i can be blessed with the tip of the cone again……[slideshow]