SnowStormNinja24

i. My grandfather was one of nine children, all identical in black and white photographs. Each had a crop of dark hair, slightly crooked smiles and as a child I thought they had black eyes too. The shades, the pigments, were lost in translation and even still I picture him with ink-drop irises, faded sepia skin. ii. He, like his brothers, joined the navy. They left behind their youngest brother Ronnie on the shore waving in time with his murmured, off-beat heart, stretching the hole in his chest 8,000 miles wide. The Atlantic embraced them, called each in different directions as the waves rolled on endlessly. Their boats drifted from safe ba

i. My grandfather was one of nine children, all identical in black and white photographs. Each had a crop of dark hair, slightly crooked smiles and as a child I thought they had black eyes too. The shades, the pigments, were lost in translation and even still I picture him with ink-drop irises, faded sepia skin. ii. He, like his brothers, joined the navy. They left behind their youngest brother Ronnie on the shore waving in time with his murmured, off-beat heart, stretching the hole in his chest 8,000 miles wide. The Atlantic embraced them, called each in different directions as the waves rolled on endlessly. Their boats drifted from safe ba