I moved to a temporary sublet in Rijswijk in September 2020. I exchanged money and keys in the middle of the night after an eleven hours drive and suddenly found myself living in a flat full of very personal looking sculptures, drawings, photographs, postcards.
A little mother Mary bottle by the bath, wild plants, melted candles. I was shopping in a grocery store, surely the same one that my landlady used for shopping. I painted my toenails with nail polish I found on the kitchen's floor. I felt that my presence filled some void, some identity that was already formed. I was renting not only her flat.

After I moved out, we arranged a meeting in the house. While she was making tea for us, I was sitting quietly on the sofa, noticing every little thing that had changed. The rug on the wall, the Jesus picture, the plants – the house smelled differently.
I was a guest there and it felt clear. I showed her the photographs and asked how she felt about them. She said “it's interesting, like somebody took my being and put it into another body, filled some gap”

I knew exactly what she meant.