Triggered: Clarissa Fragoso Pinheiro

Images and text by Clarissa Fragoso Pinheiro

I was at a party in Vancouver in one of the many communal houses formed by young people who can’t afford to live on their own. This particular house was known by locals as the “Om House” because its residents were new-age hippies who preached yoga, meditation and free love. 

That night, I arrived at the party at around 10 p.m., carrying a point-and-shoot with me, just in case. A sign in the entrance encouraged all visitors to leave both their egos and shoes at the door. Passed the shoe pile, I could see a living room to my left that had been converted into an improvised stage where a few scattered people watched a jam session. To my right, there was a messy kitchen where guests ate food that some of the residents had prepared earlier that day. Finally, at the end of the hallway, a white door led to a sweaty basement where people danced to loud Latin music. It was in the crowded basement that I saw a couple absorbed in their dancing, foreheads touching, eyes closed. They made me think of the early stages of dating when it is so easy to get lost in each other, to forget the outside world. So I took the photo, hoping it would turn out, despite the darkness in the room.