Two years ago, I moved back from England, where I had spent four years of my life, to live in Finland with my British boyfriend. Out of the blue, returning from a trip to Berlin with him, sitting at the back of a car, I discovered my father was interested in buying an apartment to help me and my boyfriend settle in my native country. On an August evening, after viewing an apartment I had initially hated, another time, a tense conversation, between an introverted Finnish father and his temperamental daughter was had. Come autumn, the acquisition of an apartment in an old wooden house dating back to the 1930s was agreed on. After one break-up, several family rows, and three removed layers of floor, this place has become the first place I call my own home. Here, through the colors, tastes, moments and sights, I celebrate life unfolding through this space.