25 days to the end. I found a somewhat unattractive wooden box lying quietly underneath my stuff in the cupboard. When I opened up the box, there was a far from appealing album hiding inside. I tried to rummage in my memory, but I recalled nothing about the album.
I carefully flipped through the album, as if I was about to peek into my lost memory. There were photos taken on my first day of kindergarten; I seemed to have bawled uncontrollably and given my parents a hard time.
There was another photo that we had last taken as a family some time before my mother was gone. Despite the frail look of my dying mother, it was undeniably a beautiful photo. This reminded me that my father and I had never taken a photo together since then. I instantaneously decided it was about time to do so.
Holding the camera in my hands, I set off to capture every piece of memory that I had missed out, framing every story that I had failed to notice…I would seal them through my vision into my soul and bring them with me when the day comes…