A self-portrait with my husband in our bed, the most intimate place we share. For me, family starts with two people in coexistence in the same intimate places they love each other, hate each other, depending on the other and being independent, together in solitude and alone with company, sharing life, dreams, and secrets. One ignoring a part of himself or herself that the other guesses. Two individual beings who complement each other and at the same time blur the other.