Neteyam

Neteyam — look at him. He's smiling.

We talk so much about what he carried: the eldest son, the reliable one, the boy who never once said it was too much. All of that is true.

But he was also this. Warm and easy and pleased with himself, fifteen years old, with a whole life still ahead of him.

He should have had it. He should have had all of it. 🥺