The Weight on My Back

The weight on my back, the one I always carry, is there, just as in that very moment of that first portrait in front of the wall of an abandoned room now. Time has passed. However, that feeling is still the same pain and the persistent memory of a sad girl and her desire to leave that place. Although she still misses the embrace of her mother and father. She no longer cries, she makes photographs. She has much to heal from that girl and is certain that she has found a way to do so through art.