“My uncle once asked me, ‘Are you a virgin?’ when I was already 27 years old. From that moment, I started to be afraid of him. And a few days later, when he took me to a hotel outside the city, he leaned close to my ear by the pool and whispered, ‘After the pool, come up to my room…’”

That night, we stayed in Room 214 until almost midnight, opening my father’s letters one by one.

Three months later, I opened my little photography studio.

On opening day, the first photograph I put on the wall wasn’t one of my own.

It was an old picture of my father and Richard when they were young.

Underneath it, I wrote just one sentence:

“Sometimes the door you are most afraid to open does not hide your greatest fear… but the love of someone who spent years waiting for you to finally find it.”