There’s something about bedrooms away from home — hotels, motels, B&Bs… How they all try to recreate their own simulacrum of comfort, their own version of how a home should feel. I can spend hours shooting every small detail in these places but I’m also fascinated by how we change, when all of our daily rituals are displaced; as though we’re suddenly living our lives outside of ourselves.
We arrived late last night after a tough, rainy drive, long after the sun had set, the girls half-asleep in the back of the car. So this morning feels like a revelation, everyone getting their first glimpse at where we are: the former summer home of a 19th century american entrepreneur, transformed into a cozy Auberge. No TV, sweetly creaking floors, peace and quiet.
But we’re just passing through: we need to leave to pick up Jacob from camp and won’t be returning. As we wait for breakfast to be ready, the girls find enough time to discover, to explore, to get bored… In random order — several times over.
P.S Turns out our gracious host André was a photographer and Fuji shooter. Damn it, I got to talk shop :)