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November 1, 2020
When I was a kid, I looked up to him. Strange when you combine it with feeling invisible. Strange, but he often took pictures of us kids. He liked the moment so much he wanted to preserve it. Maybe? The memories I have of those years are made up of both happy and sad ones, as well as memories I'd rather forget—or wish didn't happen. It was a childhood of longing and fleeting happiness. I'm trying to remember and I can't find a good, warm, solid memory. The ones that come up are of neglect, selfishness, lack of time.