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Insomnia. My body is tense, my mind hanging on thoughts, unable to break free. I wake up every hour or so. Old skin in the mirror. Wandering mind. Only my children offer me a place in the present.


Photos become times for us to connect. We play, they come up with ideas. We put together a scenario and they do whatever they want. Seeing images is always a discovery. Rituals between Martín and I, acts of bonding, ways of inhabiting the present.


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