Marie-Pier Dupuis

A hot summer day. A half-unpacked house. A mother who needs room to breathe, and a child who needs space to truly exist. As the afternoon heat turns oppressive, time seems to move entirely differently for each person.

A hot summer day. A half-unpacked house. A mother who needs room to breathe, and a child who needs space to truly exist. As the afternoon heat turns oppressive, time seems to move entirely differently for each person.

A hot summer day. A half-unpacked house. A mother who needs room to breathe, and a child who needs space to truly exist. As the afternoon heat turns oppressive, time seems to move entirely differently for each person.