When I came to live in the United States, I rented an apartment that didn’t have a washing machine. I did what most people without that luxury at home do: I went to the laundromat. But I visited a different one every week, because this offered the perfect opportunity to work on a photo series about a part of American culture that has always appealed to me.

During my earlier American travels I would sometimes visit a laundromat for my travel clothes. But now I could sit down time after time, and observe for as long the washer soaked, rinsed and spun, and the dryer tumbled, getting acquainted with the other clients who used the waiting time to relax, chat, nap, read, and watch television until they could finally fold their clothing. When they noticed I was one of them, they stopped minding my camera, which to them seemed just another tool that someone without a washer was passing the time with.