Growing up, my mother Madje would rarely let me photograph her. But when her memory began to fail and I saw her beginning to disappear before me, I began taking pictures. She didn't mind at all, maybe she didn't realize I was doing it. Over the eight or ten years of watching her decline I photographed all the stages she went through-happy, violent, confused, depressed, wandering. I wanted to catch up for lost years of no pictures and make new memories for when she was gone.
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