All what matters.

I've just finished a project.
The project I had been procrastinating for a long time.
Sorting old photos of Ian and those people he used to know.
Making an album is both fun and poignant.
Because you can see the history of the person that you love.
You'd feel as if you have lived his life through the photos, almost.
I could see him at different stages of life, him growing up,
and now, us, growing older together.
It's sweet. Profound. A joy.

After finishing the project, he asked me,
if I had old photos of myself.
No, not many.
Not many at all.
For I was always the one who took photos of people around me.
How lonely I was, all those years of my teens,
Having no one to take my photos, I missed out on the opportunity to flip through them and ponder about my past.
At the same time, I have no photos to remind me how unhappy I was.
The past I don't want to remember, doesn't exist in my photo albums.

After all, I have plenty enough photos of us together now, in which I look so happy...and that's all what matters.