You cry in a voice that is not your own, act like dead weight, call me horrible names. But sometimes you look me in the eye and smile. Sometimes you remember. I brush your beautiful hair and think, That’s alright my love, I’m also not who I used to be.
Julian Dores lives in Brussels, Belgium. He enjoys writing fiction and taking candid photographs of everyday life on the street. You can read more of his work on his website.
Exquisite, powerful, haunting. Bravo!
Very poignant. You said so much in so few words. Well done!
Very nice, powerful, sad
There are too many of us who have stories of decline, dementia perhaps? Thanks for one so beautifully written.