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Daughter bares all for Dad
He crafts beauty. With light and shadow, a rainbow of color, and an eye for composition, he produces art. He is a master of photography; and he’s my father.My mother died when I was twelve. I took it really hard. My twin brother, Dusty, kept a lot in. My father grieved for a long time. My mother had been his muse, his true love. Loneliness emptied his heart. But Dusty and I felt safe with him, even when life was cruel. Dad prepared us to discover ourselves like a sculptor finds a shape in...