In the top drawer of the dressing table there was a photo album with a brown cover. The inside was filled with black and white images of people I did not recognise, photographs that were made before I was born. They were casually mounted with corners, and beautifully patterned interleaves lived between the pages. The only words inside, written on the back of a photograph, were In Mid-Ocean. The album documents the transitional life my parents led. Based in London, but longing for home, their lives were lived in mid-ocean, journeying back and forth across physical and cultural space.
