When I was young, I saw my Mum as an unstoppable force, like a large rock; unmovable, stable and resilient. As I got older, I saw my Mum age, as I did but something changed when she turned 50. I realised that my time with her was finite and as I gradually stepped into the world, my moments with her were increasingly fleeting. Whilst clearing out her old house, I found the ‘red box’; a metal lockbox which held onto decades of personal artifacts from her life. This series is about confronting my Mum’s mortality, whilst wrestling with the inescapable reality that I will loose her one day. When I think of this, I am reminded of a childhood memory whereby I became detached from her in a busy high street, unable to reach for her hand.