This is the last photograph I took of my dad. Although quite frail, he still came to the door to see us off. When he was just a few years younger he only needed to place one hand on the doorframe for support, he had rickets as a child and his legs were always skinny. He smiles but itís sad. The bright reflection in the glass of the sliding door helps to lift him from the shadow that frames him. To his left is mumís, now empty, chair which he never moved.
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