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Mother

My mother...

My mother…

My mother was the 3rd of 4 children and recalls deeply loving her mother, but never knowing what to expect. As both her parents worked, she would cook and clean and try and run the household from this age. I have learned this story in passes, shards of recollection if you like. But the story has a fragmented and ruffled quality with lots of gaps. And so she is dressed in ruffles, ruffles that cut through her development, her childhood and even threaten to cleave her in half…Next.

Ruffles...

Ruffles…

 

Hypervigilance...

Hypervigilance…