Today was a quiet day at Gatehouse – which I expect until Wednesday becomes more of an institution. D. came in and asked about the project but nodded off while I was telling her. I talked to her when she was awake, and looked through the first batch of photos when she was asleep. I’m adapting to whatever happens in there. Just trying to absorb, learn and be unfazed by my lack of knowledge. I’m on such a steep learning curve, and its daunting at times, learning a new language and culture.

And all the while figuring out how to balance my voice with their voices; not overwhelming or directing too much, but allowing this project to develop naturally. I’m going to start interviewing people soon, so I get a better understanding of the culture and circumstances that lead people, women, to this place, this point. In the meantime I’m watching and listening. Watching D.’s poor scraped knuckles, and the way she sleeps in the armchair. Listening to her tell me “Anyone who does this job without a drug addiction is crazy”. Watching the bruised apples in the fruit bowl go brown (and thinking there is some cliche metaphor waiting for me in that observation). Listening to the cars stop outside and pick up workers. Watching, listening, learning.