Ever since I was a kid, I would walk down the street and look at houses and kind of imagine the lives of the people who lived there. Not exactly the people, but try to guess from the outside of the house what kind of people lived there and what they did. I used to think that a pretty house meant better people lived there, but I’ve gotten rid of that idea after a while.
Cayman was full of these little houses, modest and not modest. Being in a foreign country gives that kind of imagining another element. You start to imagine what it would be like to live there, all the time. Hence I guess why I like to photograph that kind of thing so much: