2005
Why can’t you ever get out of it, Dad? Not even twenty years later?
Your check-in
2005
I’m trying to find an answer, a way to make sense of it, but always in vain. I didn’t make this to shame you, or to laugh, or to point fingers — only to understand you. With every glimmer of hope, we fall right back to the beginning. Maybe this is really the reality we both have to accept?
