Five decades ago,
Enniscrone, Ireland.
I’m in my mother’s arms,
my grandmother, next to her,
my sister in the arms of my grandfather,
my beautiful aunt, next to him,
my father behind the camera.
The thousands
of stories in these arms,
these faces,
these bodies.
intimacies
losses
betrayals
silences
horrors
triumphs
enchantments
seeping into the
child bones
of my sister and me
0 thoughts on “all the stories breathe inside us”
Beautiful
Thank you, Judy.
Breathtaking.
Simple and direct.
Smiles that hold the secrets.
I have so many photos.
thank you, Holly, photos capture so much—things we can’t even put into words.
Stories breathe, indeed … and take on a life of their own.