Sometimes it feels like living inside a gingerbread house; surrounded by sugary sweet, idyllic and frosted. Where you stop and think about how much you’ll miss it when it’s gone. You want to scoop it up and pour in a jar to sit high upon a shelf for safe keeping. And there are other times it feels like sitting in a tree outside your window looking in. You see it happening, you hear muffled noises, the branches groaning beneath you from the weight. And you realize you’d better get back inside before it comes tumbling down. And once again you’re enveloped by warmth, muted sounds magnified, the whirring of the dishwasher and pleas from young ones. There are moments of calm, of glitz, of grey. There are moments, and moments never stay the same.
( all images shot on film in San Jose, Ca)