My Story

Topics: Photography, Time, Family Pages: 3 (1429 words) Published: January 28, 2014

My Story My photos
It was three o’clock in the morning of a very cold night, I have a cup of tea and I was browsing through all my photos when I realized that I could tell a story with just pictures, the story of my life. My name is Lucine Armenian for Moon, I was born in Montevideo Uruguay forty years ago, both of my parents were second generation of Armenian descendants, beautiful people that taught me to never give up on my dreams even when they seem impossible to reach as my grandmother Yana used to say “ To be willing is half the job”. When I was 5 years old, my mom Elina noticed how much I like dancing so she enrolled me in ballet. I was a busy little girl in my years of elementary school between my ballet classes and piano lessons, art run through your veins my grandma used to say. I can still see her sitting in front of her mural painting while telling me all these stories about how her family survived genocide, my Yama as I used to called her was only fourteen years old when everything started back in Trabzon a province in Armenia. She and her parents took refuge in Italy first and a couple of years later they decide to move to South America it seems to them a safe place to live, while in Europe all you heard were rumors of war and atrocities. She found it easy to express herself throughout painting, and I guess that was pass on into me. One day she told me while I was playing with my first camera “You can see more than people faces in the photos, you know that right?. It took me at least ten years to even begin to comprehend what she really meant by that. When I was fifteen years old my parents got divorced, just a few months before my big sweet fifteen. At the party I was practicing with my brand new camera taking pictures, it was not only until many days later when anxiously picked up my pictures that I realized what my Yama had meant years before. I look a one picture of my mom at the party and saw her smile, it was broken not fresh or a happy...
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