Every morning at nine in the morning my grandmother sits in front of this mirror. Getting ready for the day to come she gets dressed, puts on make-up while listening to the radio.
She has a small tray full of perfumes, a silver comb and small boxes with earrings and rings. When I was a child I used to love sitting in front of this mirror, trying on her lipsticks, spraying perfume and feeling like a grown-up. Momme would always be in the room and start combing my hair. When I was about five years old I would complain to her that my hair was too dark, too black, that I wanted to be blonde like my friends. My grand mother would stop combing my hair, telling me my black hair is beautiful.
She still does. I'm soon to be 30 and last week she was combing my hair again. Telling me I'm lucky to have my black, long hair. Nothing has changed, time stands still in front of this mirror. And I like it.
I love photographing in the pink mirror room in my grand mother's house. There is something about the light, the pink curtains softening the whole room and making it warm.