2020, 35mm

This past spring, my yiayia turned 95 from the hospital bed where she now spends nearly all of her time. I was 500 miles away in North Carolina, a distance that felt even greater thanks to the rapidly unfolding pandemic. I worried, like so many others separated from loved ones, that I might not get to see her in person before her time ran out. When I did finally make the pilgrimage home later that summer, I realized my yiayia can no longer register the gaps between my visits—it was as if I had just left. Time only exists in the space of her fourth floor bedroom and the endless episodes of Golden Girls. A large mirror occupies the dresser at the foot of her bed, bending light back at her in an endless procession of images.