Mother and daughter. Two women forever bound by a strong bond. They are alike, yet each is her own. One passes on her experiences to the other, projects her dreams onto her, protects her, experiences every joy and pain with her. The other listens, yet has a mind of her own, owns the world and longs to enter it. To leave home behind and know that she can return there again, to come for advice, for support, for inspiration, for love. Or just for a quiet moment spent chatting about the little things.
They're alike, even if they might not say so themselves. A small gesture, the color of their eyes, the tone of their laughter. The mother is a prototype, a model for the daughter, she shapes her ideas about life according to her, whether she develops in them what her mother tries to transmit or consciously or unconsciously defines herself against it and seeks a different path. And at the same time, the daughter shapes her mother, subtly at first, but more and more as the years go by, and sometimes those moments are difficult, full of criticism, and then it takes perspective, patience. Understanding. Someday we'll talk about it and laugh honestly, what was it like, Mom, when I was little? No one is as close to each other as a mother and daughter, and there is tremendous strength to be drawn from that relationship.
