My window

This is not a meteorological project — no offense meant to my father who’s been collecting pluviometry data for the past 20 years (which somehow means I’m not the only one with obsessive-compulsive tendencies in the family).
It’s not even a very original project, because since the dawn of photography, quite a bunch of people went for that kind of exercise, though pushing sometimes the boundaries of narcissism by taking pictures of either themselves or their beloved family through the years.

As I am quite the embodiment of modesty, I went for the view from my bathtub.

Because once my little sister asked me how was the winter in Stockholm, and as a picture is worth a thousand words (particularly when you’re not really that good at words), I used my camera instead.
Because I like to see the world from another perspective than my 1m72.
Because the skies of Stockholm are everchanging and that fascinates me.

I shot a while, I thought “Oh, well, that’s a pretty view but it’s definitely nothing so original”, the sunshine of my life said “Seriously, that’s just useless. And you could have picked up another window, it’s not as if we didn’t have plenty of them”, and I was about to drop the whole thing when I started a little “praktik” with a talented photographer. Who told me it was not that dumb, and anyway, “why not”? Sure, why not?

So there you are. You now have a whole year seen from my bathtub. You’re absolutely allowed to think it sucks, it’s uninteresting and not-even-pretty-after-all. You’re absolutely not allowed to tell it to me because else I’ll have to drink absinthe at legless tables, and I don’t like absinthe.