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  • My mother has gone now.

    Back to England.

    I'll probably see her next summer, but, as always, such meetings seem impossibly distant in both space and time after just saying goodbye.

    While she was here, I took photographs.

    Now I cannot take any more, those taken reveal their imperfections.

  • Closer focus, different pose, different light.

    Something to bring me closer.

  • As she flies further away, nothing to be done.

  • Perhaps tomorrow will show a different view.

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