My parents split up when I was 10 and divorced when I was 17. I lost touch with my father completely while in my 20s, but he had been a sporadic character in my life throughout my teens. After the age of 10, I barely had any photographs of myself, because he was the one who used to take them.
While looking through old family photos trying to make sense of my past, I noticed that the few photographs taken by my mother of my dad and me almost consistently cut him out of the frame. Viewed together as a collection, they appear to predict my disappearing memory of him. It is as if he is slowly being erased from the day I was born. Now, I have to invent a fiction of the father that also existed as the man I never knew outside the frame.