Conversations in the washing room

I've read somewhere that the whole idea of race is a human invention. I agree. This is not a story of them being black and white, the truth is that I don't even see it most of the time.

The sun keeps going down and we are playing with our shadows. I can hear Irene's music and Mekdi's sweet voice while singing and dancing.

It´s Sunday morning. Mekdi takes a shower and Irene looks through the window of her bedroom. It is sunny outside, we are planning to spend sometime on the beach. I grab my camera, they have been able to inspire me once again.

Sunday afternoon, time to relax.

It's Monday afternoon in Perth, Irene, still in her school uniform, browses her Ipad while Mekdi reads Harry Potter in her pyjamas.

I can hear them whispering

They have been able to inspire me once again.

I ask Irene and Mekdi to lay in the water for a portrait. They gently hold hands, I capture the beautiful moment, their faces say it all.

Home for me is a warm bed that you can’t get out of in the morning, the sound of my husband's key in the door back from his morning walk, the beautiful light at Mekdi's bedroom when I go wake her up and realize she convinced Irene to move with her, the smell of the coffee ... Houses get bought and sold; a home stays with you always.