“Why? You look delicious. Bohemian almost-chic suits you. Must be because you’re French and you can wear anything you want and still look effortlessly good in it.”

“Oh yes, that’s definitely a super power all French citizens are born with.”

“Feel free to browse my wardrobe, but I’m not sure you’ll find anything that fits. We don’t exactly have the same body type.”

“I’m sure I’ll find something.” She shoots me another smile and then, as if she has lived in this house for years, she walks into my bedroom, in search of something camera-friendly to clothe herself in.

While I hear her rummaging around in the other room, I set up the necessary equipment for the interview. I’m not an expert, but I know enough to set up a pair of lamps that will enhance our complexions, and the camera, which is just a point-and-shoot with a decent video function, so it can capture us both in the frame. All we need is a touch of make-up, a few rounds of test shooting, and we’re a go.

Camille enters the room in a colorful pull-over dress that I inherited from my grandmother. It’s canary yellow and bright orange and every shade in between. It washes out her pale skin tone, but I don’t mention it. I’ll dim the lights a little and apply some more foundation to her face before I hit record.

“What was the highlight of your trip to Australia?” I ask, expecting nothing less than a flippant answer about kangaroos and koalas. It has only taken me a few short days to get accustomed to Camille’s sense of humor.

But Camille’s facial expression is serious. This interview is no joke to her. “When I arrived at your rental apartment and that smoke detector kept beeping. After two months on the road, and a lot of unexpected encounters and adventures, I had learned that the things that appear the most annoying at first, can lead to the most interesting experiences.”

“Really?” I would usually never follow up an interviewee’s answer like that, but sitting across from Camille, I can’t be expected to keep my composure.