Moving out.

Today we had to clear out my mother’s house in Suffolk, where she had been living for the last 4 years before she was diagnosed. It was sad going back there, seeing the place she had been living before all this happened, and where I know she had been really happy. She created a very nice life up there and was by far the happiest I had ever seen her. It was perhaps saddest going there for me, than her Camden house, as there are only good memories in Suffolk, there is not really any connections with her illness, unlike Camden where every room brings on another bad memory for me. In Suffolk I just see this lovely place she was living in and surrounded with all her friends, and it makes it all more upsetting and unfair that she has gone.

It’s been a weird few weeks. My first birthday without her, moving out of my flat and back to her home in Camden, showing my book to many picture editors and trying to get the work published while still finding it hard to look at the images of my mum, and now getting ready to go traveling for a few weeks on my own.

I’ve tried to start shooting whats going on  in my head. Like every morning when I lie on my bed staring out the window or ceiling thinking her, perhaps the only ‘quiet’ time I get in the day. Yesterday I tried to shoot the emptiness I feel inside. Today I took some shots at my mum’s place, the final ones for Tulip maybe…

The left behind flowers, Suffolk.

The beautiful barn.
There are traces of her everywhere. I wondered what dish of hers had made this mark.
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