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So I opened up an old case that belonged to my father and randomly threw photographs on the table. There were a few of my father and mother and lots of my grandfather and his brothers and their wives, At the end there was a few photos of me as a baby. Some many generations needed to have gone before me for me to come into existence. Men and women committing themselves to one another to bring up their offspring, It is a miracle really that I exist or that the line continues though my children and grandchildren.
What of those families that cease to exist. That just disappear. A war. a pestilance, a shipwreck, a train crash, a lifestyle, wipes away all traces of a families existance, so that not even a memory remains
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