a collective reflection on homeloss

Home for me would be...

To go away from home generates new feelings, and so you try to test it, what’s this feeling? What’s home meaning? Home is land? A feeling? An environment, an atmosphere? Home is safety? People? Now, home for me is tenderness. When I become so tired and want to sleep I need this tenderness. I need to feel that I’m in my house. But I’m not in my house. This is not my house. This is not my land, at the end.

Home is missing in that...

Because I’m in a changeable situation. Every day I face many changing situations. I don’t know for what time I will stay here… It’s a hard situation. I resist all those feelings and keep calm and tell myself: 'Ula, you are very strong!' I try to go forward and not think emotionally. Try to see the reality, see the things for what they are, here, and try to adapt yourself – adapt yourself. I try to live positively, flexible, to be more strong, but… sometimes I just want to find a little corner where I can be weak. To rest. To have rest. This would be home. This tenderness. I try to be positive, but there are backgrounds in my mind: I’m lonely. Completely. But can I search for this little corner, this tenderness, with someone? Or only alone? 

Ula Sulaiman

[extract from the film FOREIGN FOREST FOR REST 

and from the eighth chapter of BERTH SONGS, 'Forrest']

 

Home for me would be...

... the light filtering through the attic window of my grandmother's house. Neither my grandmother or her house are there anymore, but they are a light shining within me. 

Home is missing in that...

... time stretched out on the lawn in the shade, fresh grass that I don't enjoy but trample in a frenetic rush. To slow. To pause. To quiver. 

Marco Ius

Home for me would be...

I have not been back home for more than 10 years because of the war in Ukraine. Now I weep, but tears remind us that we are alive, and so there is always hope that one day we can return home.

Home is missing in that...

It's not just the place that you miss of course, but the people (many of whom are no longer with us), your mother tongue, the energy of the place. I miss the SUN and AIR of my home, the smells, the flavours, the jokes, grandma's kitchen, I really miss home when I was 15-20 years old: I had a beautiful life, I was so happy! So very very happy! The tragedy is that you get used to living with this wound and you no longer acknowledge the pain because you've adapted to this condition. People get used to everything, both the good and the bad, and I get used to it through no choice of my own. Thank you for opening your hearts to such profound matters, which we sometimes fear to delve into lest we fall and get hurt. I will no longer hide my loss.

Alëna Igorevna

Home for me would be...

Home for me is where I feel loved. It is not the walls, it is how you feel connected with everything around. At 'Home' I may have physical pain but I am at peace emotionally.

Home is missing in that...

For me being away from home is not being far from the walls, it is the feeling that you are away from the 'things' that value your presence unconditionally, and vice versa.


I wish no one has to be deprived of Home for any reason!

राजु Raju, Kathmandu Nepal

Home for me would be...

... a warm cosy place where I feel good! Where there would also be other people with whom I could share daily life, projects and much more. Home is also the natural world and...

Home is missing in that...

... sometimes I wish I was alone, by myself, in a big, bright room without walls that merges with the lush vegetation.

Home for me would be...

... where my heart is. And it is often in more than one place at any given time. Home is fluid, it changes with time and evolves with people with whom I cross paths. Home for me would be crossing bridges. Literally and figuratively. 

Home is missing in that...

... the memories and dreams blur into one faint landscape. Home is missing in that there is always something or someone that you wish was with you. 

Özgür

Home for me would be...

... a safe place, somewhere to rest, to relinquish, to make space for someone, to host and be hosted, to welcome and to replenish in order to give life to something else.

Home is missing in that...

... the scattered roots do not connect in a single place. A place changes and ‘home’ remains a memory, a destination, a feeling.

Home for me would be...

... where there is always an open door for a chat and a glass of wine.

Home is missing in that...

... I miss the space and simplicity within a world without sensitivity.

Home for me would be...

... my grandfather's gaze, encouraging me and giving me strength without needing to say a word, my rock, source of curiosity towards the world. Home is where there is no prejudice but attention, care, patience, openness. Home is a picnic, watching the clouds, the sun warming me and giving strength to my bones. The wind that tousles my hair and gives me the idea of freedom, of this being a world for all, a place of peace and sharing. Home for me is Sicily where I have relatives and feel truly alive.

Home is missing in that...

Home is missing when I feel judged by people I don't know who criticise on the basis of hearsay. Home is missing when you're talking with others and they are using their phones, without being present; I witness a sense of frustration in a world swallowed up by technology and social media; there is no longer any distinction between what is real and what is virtual. Cold, sterile and easily misunderstood messages. Unaccommodating people who are pro social media: everyone has to have their say, but it's not necessary – it'd be enough to just be there.

Home for me would be...

... a place where the fragments of stories and people of shipwrecked monsters and grieving ghosts – can coexist within a space of play. A space where the boundaries are demarcated by the smell of milky coffee and cut grass.

Home is missing in that...

... sometimes it seems merely a reflection in the water, a kind of island that isn't there. A space dreamt of, sustained by the hopes of sailors lost in the ocean. A spectre that becomes all the more real, the more it is fuelled by a melancholy that has no earthly origin, nor in the waves of the sea, but in the empty space left by the small stars in the sky.

Jan Mozetič

Home for me would be...

... to go back in time, when I was far away, with my siblings, having fun as children, making tents in the backyard, enjoying ourselves with little.

Home is missing in that...

... it's not possibile.

Home for me would be...

... having the people who make me feel secure and comfortable near me. Even if I am far from the physical place I call home, knowing that those people are in my life makes me feel that I have a place to return to – they are my home.

Home is missing in that...

... being far from home means losing that security and confidence in ourselves. Home is missing in that the the kinds of place and atmosphere that allow us to feel peaceful can at times get lost.

Home for me would be...

I grew up in a city by the sea. When there's the sea, I feel a little more at home. And I breathe. Without the sea I feel I'm suffocating.

Home is missing in that...

Home is a sigh of relief, a release. No home is tension.

Home for me would be...

‘I light a small candle and it's the closest thing to home I can feel in my eyes.’ I wrote this ten years ago among rugged mountain profiles. Today I would say that home is my skin in its tenacious nakedness, in this port, in its quivering of voices.

Home is missing in that...

You separate yourself from me, I separate myself from you, they separate us from them. The earth is parched and numb. And the glances declare it. The absurd reigns warlike everywhere. Love dries up. I find no shelter. Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.

Ottavia Salvador

To my son, to my daughter,

Home for me would be...

You ask me where is home? Home is the burrow where you take refuge, it is the earth that nourishes you, it is the hand that reaches out to you; home is also the moment you open the door to another and offer what you have. Is not this the earth?

Home is missing in that...

Be fluid because there are no foundations.

Elisa

Home for me would be...

... the streets I know by heart, the forest paths I smell, the open sea, the books on my bookshelves, the light throughout the day.

Home is missing in that...

... my friends from my previous lives, from many walks of life, whom I keep in my heart.

Home for me would be...

... the place where those I love are. The place doesn't matter, just who you're with.

Home is missing in that...

Because those who were always there no longer are.

Home for me would be...

... the place where I feel myself, accepted for who I am in a fraternal embrace of love and tenderness.

Home is missing in that...

... I feel left alone in the grip of my vulnerability, abandoned and forgotten by everything and everyone.

Home for me would be...

Home is a perception, home is within me, I am home. Within me (or you) you can find the love of family and the gratitude of those who have placed their trust and opened their hearts to you. You can find the hugs and smiles of those who have gone as well as those who are still here. You can find the traditions, languages, knowhow, legends, adventures, and strength of our ancestors. You can find the skies under which you have dreamt and the meadows upon which you have slept. I open this house and let you in: if you look closely, every stone speaks of me and speaks of everything.

Home is missing in that...

Pain and anger, abandon and isolation. When the ego prevails there is only you, and there are too few stones to build a house. You're inside a ruin, you feel vulnerable, and afraid you drift aimlessly.

Lisa Iannascoli

Home for me would be...

... me. A place where I rediscover my centre, where time stands still, where my gaze lingers on the little things, where I feel the sun warming me, where the wind whispers faraway voices, where the world lives a life of its own. I marvel at this beauty that surrounds me, and how much faith I have in myself in that every change, every weather, every misfortune is part of life. Everything is perfect, everything turns to home.

Home is missing in that...

... everything becomes grey and life loses meaning, routine takes hold of me, my body becomes detached. I'm no longer surprised by anything. Everything passes in front of me without arousing interest. A film without an ending that repeats itself endlessly. Home is missing when I am not at the helm of my life, of my direction, of my adventure. Every place becomes home when I am master and explorer of myself.

Manuel Laspy

Home for me would be...

... to feel free to express myself, to think, to act, to listen to myself... To carry myself for others.

Home is missing in that...

.... the fear of trying to be myself blocks me from dealing with even the most mundane situations, not having the confidence, neither personally nor collectively, to express myself.

Home for me would be...

... a safe place, a collection of people who allow me to be myself without being judged. A place where I'm not afraid to be myself, where I can experience all my emotions without feeling guilty. Home for me is warmth, friends and carefreeness.

Home is missing in that...

... nobody really has the chance to be who they are without being judged. Home is missing in that no one feels like a member of a community anymore. Many feel alone in a world that grows ever larger and more imposing. Home is missing in that nobody is free to make mistakes any more.

Home for me would be...

... doing rest in front of natural environments, like sometimes I do. Laying along a river and listening to the flowing water, birds and the typical sound of trees dancing in the wind. Embracing the nostalgia and going through all those memories that come along. 

Home is missing in that...

... society always goes too far and too quickly, so that all the words are not pondered and all the thought just run into our minds, without being valued, causing an enormous sense of loneliness and loss.

Lorenzo (geno)

Home for me would be...

... the place where I sleep and I eat.

Home is missing in that...

... there is no nature around me.

Home for me would be...

... my new nest, balanced between travelling and staying put, the mountains in front of me, my 12-legged family, wholeness, life, love!

Home is missing in that...

... hugs, smells, sounds and laughter, the warmth on my face and the wind in my hair, the sea on the horizon and cicadas singing in the background, friends, family, history and memories, the absences, love!

Federica Massari

Home for me would be...

... the place where I feel at ease by myself and in company, the place where I take refuge warmed by my surroundings and where I welcome those who cross its threshold.

Home is missing in that...

... the person who imparted the ‘value of home’ to me is no longer here.

Francesca

Home for me would be...

...that place wherever and with whoever has helped me feel loved, supported, nourished and encouraged. With family, friends, colleagues and neighbours who have helped through the happy times and difficult times of my long life.

Home is missing in that...

... those who shaped my childhood are missing from my life now yet live on within me, deep, deep in my soul, so clearly in my memory banks, that I’m still "at home", wherever my place of residence may be, and I have been fortunate enough to have always had one, a place of comfort and stability. How blessed am I? Hard to find a photograph as our family didn’t have a camera, but I found this one of my sister Sheila and I taken by our Uncle Tom in our paternal grandparents garden in Denton Burn, Newcastle upon Tyne.

Judith Johnson (Christopher’s grandmother!)

Home for me would be...

... a place where I can be myself, where there is love, trust, true mutual respect. Where they understand you without words. DOM ♥ ДOМ True homes aren't walls, but people who love you.

Home is missing in that...

... it's a tear from my eye now, sometimes I'm afraid I won't ever be able to return, but I remain hopeful! I'm from Lugansk.

Home for me would be...

... family, not just that of blood but that of the heart, of authentic relationships ... the place where you are well, not just a physical place but above all a place in the world where you can be your truest self.

Home is missing in that...

... ties fray, you see people drifting apart. Moments when you feel uneasy.

Home for me would be...

... a place or perhaps a person, where you can feel yourself 100 per cent, where you're not afraid, where you don't feel anger, sadness, no, where you feel only tranquillity, a pleasant feeling of emptiness.

Home is missing in that...

... you can't wear your outside mask for long, it harms you more and more with every passing minute. Until you become a stranger.

Home for me would be...

... any station at dawn.

Home is missing in that...

... every one-way ticket produces another.

Home for me would be...

Home for me doesn't represent either a physical place or the people I'm with and with whom I keep company. Home is the time and place where I feel at ease without any anxiety and can be completely myself. I feel at home when I'm alone in my own company without judgmental stares or nagging thoughts.

Home is missing in that...

... I'm a stranger to myself.

Home for me would be...

... the place where I find myself, from which to leave and to return to, the refuge where I can rest and from which to watch the world, where I can reflect and think and plan a future.

Home is missing in that...

... I have too many homes and I no longer know where I belong. I long for the person who welcomes me and who comes back.

Home for me would be...

... being with Roberta!

Home is missing in that...

Whenever she's not around!

Home for me would be...

... a table covered with a pretty tablecloth, that you can see has been washed many times, for all the lunches when the family got together. Lunch begins with a broth, very hot. Then it continues with the first course prepared by the grandmother, the second course, dessert, and above all lots and lots of laughter.

Home is missing in that...

I come home, I open the door, but often it's empty.

Home for me would be...

Home is a point of view, the point of view. Home should be love. Home is protection. Home will be nostalgia.

Home is missing in that...

... the fatigue and the breathlessness caused by distance prevails ... when a single, small breath of suffering emerges.

Home for me would be...

... to be able to go back and retrieve Dad's old typewriter, which I abandoned through inexperience during my definitive relocation. Years later I bought an identical one that I now have on display and every time I pass by and look at it, I apologise to my Dad and his Olivetti Lettera 32 because both are gone.

Home is missing in that...

... the smell of 'piadina' has been lost for many years now. I still yearn for that sensation every time I go to the Romagna region, and relish with my sense of smell, rather than the mouth, that scent that smells of familiar childhood that vanished decades ago, making me feel good even if only for a moment. The serene memories of childhood, even if linked to a smell or a banal gesture, remain indelible in my mind and heart. There they are, like prehistoric graffiti, ready to be rediscovered and appreciated at any time. They are my past and my history that have always accompanied me and made me who I am.

Gianni Chiarelli

Home for me would be...

... a place where I can take refuge and feel protected, loved and accepted... just like on summer Sundays when I go to the relatives' for a good barbecue with my happy and carefree cousins. 

Home is missing in that...

... sometimes you don't get the opportunity to relive an experience that made you feel good.

Home for me would be...

... the family home that is no longer there, that has been sold but remains lodged in my heart. A paradise lost! Life, youth, memories, loved ones I carry in my heart.

Home is missing in that...

... I've rebuilt a nest. A place I love, but 'home' is still that other place. A place to which I return in thought and which is now mine alone.

Home for me would be...

... to enter into a space that immediately opens my heart and makes me breathe deeply into the bottom of my lungs ... a raft where I feel protected and from which, all around, I perceive the urban sea ... a container of sensations perceived thanks to objects, works of art, corners of furnishings that I enjoy for their beauty but also the inspiration they arouse in me for the bonds and connections they create between past, present and future ...  where I can feel comfortable, also visually, and move freely. I'm sure it will come ...

Anna

Home for me would be...

... that anxiety of finding everything before the move, finding the furniture in two, talking, discussing, opting, discarding and clashing over opposing ideas. It is fantasy. It is achievable. 

Home is missing in that...

... it is missing in time. 13 days left before relaxing and talking to that person at the end of the day. 13 days left until my home.

Home for me would be...

A safe place. Warmth. Sharing. Being welcomed. Well-being. Fusion.

Home is missing in that...

Separation. Loneliness.

Giusy

Home for me would be...

... a building or a place that activates tranquillity and serenity, where your freedom can be fully expressed. The place can also be errant or transient and determined by one or more individuals around you.

Home is missing in that...

Home for me in particular is a group of people, whom I cannot often see for lengthy periods of time.

Home for me would be...

... a safe place, a warm embrace, the place of awakening, and slumber, an expansion of you.

Home is missing in that...

... in that you feel far from your child self, from the warmest embraces and fondest affections.

ZF

Home for me would be...

... not a fixed place, not even a person, but for me home is that moment in which you feel good with those and that which you have around you, including yourself; home is that moment of happiness, of joy and contentment.

Home is missing in that...

... it's complicated to be the person you want to be, to find yourself and the right company.

Home for me would be...

... a possibility of recognition and a possibility to share.

Home is missing in that...

... it is difficult to recognise oneself.

Home for me would be...

... a personalised container of shelter, closed on three sides and open on the front, home is also an offer of sharing.

Miriam Pertegato

Home for me would be...

... the smell of Grandma's mint sauce. The lemon tree with the pomegranate tree next to it. My dog's paws, forever, on the parquet floor. Her embrace.

Home is missing in that...

Physical roots cannot be relocated, yet they remain precious within me. My body is my home.

Valentina

Home for me would be...

... a world, a space where people can express their emotions without judgement, without fear. Where one can 'feel', where emotions can meet beyond words. A home of free people.

Home is missing in that...

... there is no freedom to express oneself, with one's doings, emotions. There's no home if there's no freedom of emotion and love.

Home for me would be...

... the place of my childhood, made of warmth, protection and affection, of good smells and things to invent.

Home is missing in that...

... now I have to protect myself alone, I must build that place.

others on their way...



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