

I love old photos. I remember being tiny and looking through my mum’s photo albums of her and my dad courting and stroppily insisting that she must be hiding secret brothers and sisters from me. I just couldn’t understand how the smiling people in the photographs could be the same ones who wouldn’t let me put my feet up on the seat in the car.
I take lots of photos. The weird thing is all the photos we take now are just going to be with us forever because of this and the Book of Faces. So now they’re sort of like a gift but to everyone, even people who aren’t even born yet. Hopefully one day I’ll get to show my children this post and they can ask me about the things I did and why their Aunty Liv’s hair is so mental.
so sad :( she’s talking...kids. has everybody watched
god, the talking...children is making...like shit about...
