I can try to talk my way out of being who I am but it will never work, I can pretend to be nothing to do with them and its easy to do as I never knew them but whatever I do I can not change that it was that woman that gave birth to me no one else, it is her mother who was my grandmother who wasn’t really even there for my mother let alone me. Who would choose such people to be your family no one would but I had to know who they were as a matter of form. I grew up with little or no interest in knowing them but as I grew older I knew I would have to find out who they were. I have the picture its clear I don’t need photographs to show me. I have seen the big house where it all started and how it all collapsed and ended up when it all fell like a deck of cards and wrecked every thing in sight of it, me included. Like a world falling apart because of one selfish woman.