The truth is, I miss you. This is more then a photograph; it’s a rare fragment of a moment that completed me. This portrait defines him in my mind. At first glance he looks happy but I know better. As I delve into rough terrain of plunging and rising skin I arrive at two very familiar eyes. Although these eyes belong to this man, they are unmistakably mine. The size, the color, the placement, I can’t kid myself that this man is my father. I took this photo upon meeting this stranger. I flew to a foreign land to meet the man that has been MIA in my life. We did not speak the same language and were completely alienated from each other. This picture stings me. It reminds me of him, and everything I hated and loved about him. His eyes are what get me. They evoke pity and weakness from me and for that I hate him and this picture. His eyes speak of a loneliness that he holds me responsible for. Others viewing this picture might think is a lighthearted photo but I know his eyes to well because they are mine. My eyes, my emotions, me. Our eyes are one in the same.



this is what i'm working on for my essay. I'm pretty sure this is going to be the first paragraph.