Nu? Vas iss das?
Every weekend my wife and I take a walk and check with my mother to see if she needs anything, which we then leave in a bag in her building’s lobby for her to pick up. Sometimes we get to say, “hi.”
Visiting Mom
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a Photo Blog, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to dear dirty New York
Sometimes we get to say, “hi.” – and that is our life for now.
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