The photographs that Scilla took as a 16-year-old girl on the streets of London in 1955 stayed largely in her album (相册) over the years. Scilla is now 83, and her self-developed black-and-white photos have been brought back to life after they were discovered by a teenage photographer.

Over the past year, Philip Loveday, 16, has been revisiting his grandmother’s path across the capital to carefully rephotograph the pictures. His journey through time with a camera has been especially moving, because his grandmother, Scilla, has Alzheimer’s disease (阿尔茨海默症) and has lost many of her memories.

Philip took new photos that looked like the ones Scilla took long ago, and put them in a new album. Each page of Scilla’s old album was copied and put in the new one, with Philip’s new photos on the opposite pages. Philip’s mother, Catherine Loveday, said Scilla had been happy with the new album, which had “put her back in her shoes” as a teenager.

Philip said his mother showed him the album she had found at her mother’s house. Greatly absorbed in how modern London would compare to the city photographed by his grandmother, Philip and his mother began to make trips into central London. During the trips, they had the idea of retaking the photos.

Some of the places are similar, like Big Ben. Others show how the city has modernized. Unlike Scilla’s view of St. Paul’s Cathedral from the Thames, Philip’s retake has the Millenium Bridge. When Scilla photographed the John Lewis store on Oxford Street, it was a one-storey building — now it has seven floors. Philip had to use his imagination to recreate other sights. Scilla has repeatedly returned to her new album since receiving it. Philip said: “It’s nice for her to see someone taking an interest in those photos and going back over them, and also good for her to connect her past to where we are now.”

My mom was one-eyed. I hated her... She was such an embarrassment. She ran a small shop at a flea market to sell anything for the money we needed.

I remember it was field day, and my mom came. I was so embarrassed. I threw her a hateful look and ran out. The next day at school..., “Your mom only has one eye?!” and they teased me.

I wished my mom would disappear from this world, so I said to her, “Why don’t you have the other eye?! You’re only going to make me a laughing stock. Why don’t you just die?” She didn’t respond. I guess I felt a little bad, but meanwhile, it felt good to think I said what I’d wanted to say.

That night, I woke up, and went to the kitchen to get water. My mom was crying quietly. I looked at her, and turned away. Because of what I had said to her earlier, there was something hurting in my heart. Even so, I hated my mother who was crying from her one eye. So I told myself I would grow up and become successful, because I hated my one-eyed mom and our poverty.

Then I left her and got accepted in the Seoul University. Then, I got married. I bought a house then had kids. Now I’m living happily as a successful man. I like it here because it’s a place that doesn’t remind me of my mom.

This happiness was getting bigger when someone unexpected came to see me. It was my mom... Still with her one eye. My little girl ran away, scared of her eye.

I screamed at her, “How dare you come to my house and scare my daughter! Get out of here now!!” And to this, my mother quietly answered, “Sorry. I may have gotten the wrong address.” and she disappeared. Thank goodness. She doesn’t recognize me. I was relieved. I told myself I wasn’t going to think about this for the rest of my life.

One day, a letter regarding a school reunion came to me. I lied to my wife saying I was going on a business trip. After the reunion, I went down to what I used to call a house. I found my mother fallen on the ground. She had a piece of paper in her hand. It was to me.

My son, I was glad when I heard you were coming for the reunion. But I decided not to go to the school. For you... sorry I only have one eye. When you were little, you lost your eye. As a mother, I couldn’t stand watching you grow up with only one eye, so I gave you mine. I was so proud of my son seeing a whole new world for me with that eye. I was never upset at you for anything you did. You mean the world to me.

My world fell apart. I hated the person who only lived for me. I didn’t know of any way that will make up for my worst deeds.

My dad doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would bake great bread, but he is and he does. Every Saturday he produces homemade bread. When he’s done, the whole house smells delicious.

The rest of the week, Dad fixes cars at work. The shop where Dad works is running so well that he is always occupied. He is under a lot of stress. I think Dad began baking bread to help him relax.

I’ve been feeling kind of stressed out myself since I found out I didn’t make the school swim team. Now I’ll have to wait a whole year to try out again. Plus, I’m taking some difficult classes this year.

I think Dad knew I was feeling bad. Last Saturday he asked me how things were going. I said OK, even though I didn’t feel OK at all. He looked at me for a moment, and then he said it was time for me to help. Then he headed to the kitchen.

I followed right behind him. Once we were there, Dad got out his big mixing bowl, handed me a large wooden spoon, and told me to mix while he added the ingredients. Dad isn’t big on measuring. He knows how much of each ingredient to use, and the bread always turns out great.

When I finished stirring, Dad showed me how to knead the dough (揉面团). Next came the most difficult part — doing nothing. We put the dough back into the bowl and then we waited for more than an hour for the dough to slowly rise and double in size. Next, we divided it into two and waited for it to rise again. Afterward, we put the dough into pans and waited another hour for the dough to rise and double.

Dad said the waiting is always the hardest part. “It’s hard to resist putting the dough directly into the oven, but if you do, the bread will be hard. The most important lesson of all is learning to be.” Dad taught me more than how to bake bread.