Aging is a construct of who we are as people.
I walked into my sisters room missing her a lot. She went to school in Boston a few years back and visited a tiny bit each year. I looked at her wall across the room, filled with memories she had growing up clipped onto the wall with fairy lights. Every single one of these pictures were my sister’s nostalgic memories.
I blurred the faces to keep it more private.
Category: Story Telling