Warm and protected. A young mother reads in the dining room of her luxurious apartment. Tapestries enhance the walls, felted fabrics cover the chairs, and Oriental rugs soften each step the lady and her daughter take gracefully around their home. Both inhabit the space filled with a myriad of ornaments, objects and memories brought back from exotic lands. The rugs are folded, and cushions are piled up on newspapers and open books, yet the expression on the lady’s face is serene and composed. She reads quietly, her legs crossed under her white extravagant dress, her pink shoes uncovered by the layers of lace. She turns her back to her little girl she knows she can trust, as she plays innocently with the dog, laying on the rug and leaning on a puffy cushion.
Warm tones and a comfortable atmosphere reigns in the apartment. Since the master of the house departed early from an incurable disease, the family composed by the woman and the girl has relied on the house to find peace. The essence of the husband is impregnated in the fabric, the cushions he moved from the bedroom were left untouched, and the books he last read have never been closed. Sometimes the lady sits across from where her husband used to write and work. She takes a book in her frail hands, and pretends she reads, hiding her tears from her daughter playing behind her innocently with the dog.