My fingers run across the pages of the photo albums that my mother kept so plump with photographs. "One year," I think to myself. One year without my mother. I reflect on just how much has changed in the past year - my first year of college, getting my first tattoo, etc. Out of all of the things that inspire my photography, flipping through all of my family's old photos is one. I just love looking at all of the photos that my mom took of me. My mom never liked being in photos, she just loved to take them; so most of the photos are of me and my Dad. The few that I have of the two of us, are some of my favorite .