Bicycle

My mum is a colorful, old lady...
Alzheimer... today I walked streets she will never will walk again. I visited shops she used to do her shopping, I passed her hairdresser that will never cut her thin, short hair shorter. I walked slowing up the stairs to her appartment... The strong yellow walls have been painted anonymous white... most of the furniture is gone... I'm here to look through her few things that is left. In the closet I find my albums I played 30 years ago...

Tomorrow I will visit her in the nursing home.