There are no more photos

Living on the opposite side of the world to my family means that photos become real interactions. Photos are conversations, photos are hugs, photos are observations, photos are coffee dates, photos are life.

Decades of photos in order.

Time stamped, location stamped.

Cataloguing time together,

My visits, your visits.

You being grandpa to growing kids,

You being my dad, always teaching, always learning.

Colourful family life.

Beautiful life.

Then as the light started changing my photos became desperate.

Screen shots of our video conversations.

Close ups.

Whiteness.

And now a series of black and whites,

Your childhood.

Then orange tinged photos,

My childhood.

And suddenly there are no more photos.

No new photos.

Of you.

This is what makes me sad.

See you somewhere dad X