18 April 2013
I can imagine his room almost perfectly. I imagine it will get better after this next visit. I can imagine him lying in bed with the bedside lamp on my side turned on. My vision is a mixture of the photograph I took of him sleeping, and of the image I locked in my mind as I game back with a glass of lemon water. I can imagine the smell in winter. I imagine it has changed since then. The smell of...