5.19.2013

308 of 365

It began with a single image: a mother, head in her hands, sitting on a bench outside a grocery store, her young child sitting at her feet with one small hand resting sympathetically on the mother's shoelaces. The man, just passing by, had no idea who this woman was or what misfortune had befallen her, but the image resonated with him, and as it marinated in the corners of his mind, a story bloomed.

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