Photography by FEDERICO ERRAWe all used to run to her. We knew she would always be there, shining and gladly opening her door for us. She gave us cookies and sometimes a piece of her homemade carrot-cake.
I once went home and chose a pair of my mothers shoes that I could give her. See, our golden lady didn't have any shoes with heels of her own.
My mother caught me with her shoes in my hand...
I never got to give them away.
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