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Montage
Blue. All around me.
Not quite the bursting bold blue,
but the pale murky blue that seems
to seal off the wily world.
The first photo I see
wafting through the blue surface
is like peering through
a black and white window.
a boy is staring at me
through the thin glass and rusty frame,
with his lips turned upwards.
To his right, the boy soldiered up
and is eyeing me with his shaved hair
and white blazer, complemented
by a frenzy of ribbons speckled
with silver and golden medals;
a reckless smile he bore.
Then the soldier came back home,
and I see a young man in a black tuxedo
with a rose flourishing within his pocket
and a woman in white standing beside him
with roses in her ringed hand.
Its rustic white frame is slanted.
In the final photograph,
the young man is now older,
with glasses clinging onto the tip of his nose
as he holds a mug
in his slightly wrinkled hands
while a newspaper is lying on the table.
And then I see the aged barber
with weathered leather skin
guiding the scissor’s gnashing teeth
with trembling fingers.
I recognize the face that appears
in so many pictures, and in so many memories—
snip-snipping away.
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I wanted to write something that would be about family, love, and friendship. I thought a nice way to convey those themes would be through describing pictures and letting it flow. The reason why I chose the narrator to be a stranger to the man whose life I'm describing is because I wanted to portray how the barber changes in the narrator's perspective after he sees those pictures. I'm always fascinated by people's stories, and I wanted to demonstrate how all it takes is getting to know a person's story to know them.