Laundromats and laundry rooms.

I’ve always had a fascination with them.

I recall going to them as a child with my mother. Using them while camping, travelling, in side streets and luxury condos alike. The humidity and warmth. Odd socks left behind. Bulletin boards and soap dispensers.

I’m interested in the stories of the people who use these places. Their lives and experiences, our vast similarities and differences; yet we share this need to make clean what is soiled. We are bound by the cycle of the washer and the dryer. Owned by the moments it takes to wash, rinse, spin and dry. Time taken to renew. No matter of culture, language, religion, experiences, beliefs or orientation – the democratization occurs.

There is something so human about these places. We all have dirty laundry. Things we want to clean up. It equalizes us.

We may hide behind what appears to be an immaculate exterior yet in all of us are things that need a good clean up.

Say what you want but I’m pretty sure that coins, soap and a magazine may be a version of therapy not yet defined.