This painting is of my aunt Dimitra, who took care of me when my mother was at work. I remember in vivid detail her old house, built at the time when the newly arrived Christians came from Turkey into Greece in their hundreds of thousands.  The smell of the oil that was used on the old Singer machine, the embroidered covers, the otherness of a place that was stuck somewhere in the past century. But mostly I remember her love and her smile, and she appears in several works as a symbol of care and self-sacrifice.