Ivo didn't know what do with himself, he fidgeted in place and rubbed his hands together. "I'm sure that's not true. How old were you?"
"Old enough to know better."
Ivo thumbed over the lines of the poem written in a child's earnest, looping, calligraphy. "You must have loved her a lot."
Davi looked down at the lines of poetry with an incredible wistfulness. "She was my whole world. We only had each other, but it never bothered me. She sometimes talked about my grandparents, but not in detail, I'm still not certain on what happened to them. But I've always known they were dead. I never met them."
"Uh, your mother, you said she was born blind, why did she never..." Ivo trailed off and pointed at Davi's eyes indicating his optics.
Davi laughed, but without any sort of malice. "I think we might have sheltered you a little too much. Or perhaps your lack of memories does it for you."