The tales within this book have been passed down by mouth through generations of my family in Crimea; many of the details within them are, to my mind, adaptations of the personal fantasies of my mother, my grandmother, and her mother before her. However, the dreams of a child take the shapes and colours of their land (or lands, in my case) and the stories that the lands carry.

This is a small selection of the colours that are part of my identity and memory, those that I continuously drift away from and return to.

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