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A matter of reflection

For the first time I see your father in the framed picture of his father re-presented by the hall mirror as he leans fondly against our stairs. The mirror-image looks much younger catches the wise eyes the honest gaze the candid vision in a way strangely invisible in his forebear's direct portrait. So the reverse becomes likelier like the unlike more likable revelatory of one I knew without a picture without a frame without a mirror.

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