Geneviève is the name which I could give my grandmother; dignified, lofty, beautiful and it does not suit to my grandmother at all. Grandma Gienia lives in an old house that is too big and too important to have anything changed so the walls turn into ruin and the rooms into lumber. My memories and my childhood are blurred somewhere in the corners of the walls and in the backyard bushes, they turn into dust covering the furniture and the old toys. Nowhere else do I feel so much at home as there. Grandma and I are becoming more and more similar to each other – as inseparable school friends. Now I am back to this place trying to stop time however I know that it will never work.

These photographs are the pictures of me which I shot myself in the house; dressed in old found clothes together with some abandoned items which are rediscovered by me. I join them, try to be compatible and I dream of being back in times that no longer exist.