it’s just you and me

We took thousands and thousands of pictures together. Pictures when you were sad. Pictures when I was sunburnt. Pictures when we were curled up in bed. Pictures when you were looking for your shoes under the bed. So many moments of our life were captured forever. You always insisted that we print them out because you believed photos that weren’t tangible were worthless. We printed every single one. Our closets were filled with boxes of photos and after a while they filled every nook of the house. You’d open the silverware drawer and there would be a picture of me trying to hold a spoon on my nose. It was all so entertaining to us. One summer we traveled to Europe and when we came back we looked through our pictures and noticed that there wasn’t a single picture of the famous places we visited. There were only pictures of us together. When we were together it didn’t matter if we were at the Louvre or in front of Big Ben. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed.


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