Summer 2024 came upon me like a bulldozer. I had just moved into this house. Outside was blinding sunlight and piercing heat because we have no real pollution to speak of here. So it is unfiltered by smog and haze. Day after day brought another too-bright, too-hot day on high alert for bushfires. I ended up playing with some vintage glass popped on an old Nikon DSLR (D5000)—turning to the house itself as my inspiration. Finding a way to see it, to look at it, to create a lens of nostalgia and heatwave based on memories of childhood summers in this hot, dry country. This is a modest house. An older house from the 1960s. Very little renovation done. I love it’s charming qualities of steadfastly refusing to give in to progress or contemporary design. The ghosts here are friendly. And there are ghosts here. The original owners poured a lot of love into this house. It’s a nice feeling. Sometimes I catch a waft of perfume. I say hello to whoever is passing by. Because maybe someone is. I just can’t see them. Doesn’t mean they’re dead of course. Homelessness renders you invisible too.