Through My Fingers

 

Sometimes it is too hard to look directly at something you love.

You sneak peeks from the corner of your eye, aware of something precious in the peripheral. I investigated my parents through the blurring of my mind's eye, rendering them through the obscuring gaze of nostalgia into a series of glimpses. Their specificity is counteracted by a degraded memory in hopes of preserving a feeling. 

The Study
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Valence
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Dusting
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Rosemary
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Porch
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Dad's Hair
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Porch
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Mom Mirror
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Generations
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Curls
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January
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