Our home is not our home…
There is a critical mass of things that are needed to make 4 walls feel like a home. We’ve been having a mad dash to get rid of things and it was within the last two weeks we hit that tipping point. It happens quietly when you’re not looking. But at some point as you spin around in the middle of your apartment you realize it feels colder and less inviting – everything is unfamiliar again just like when you first moved in.
I’m writing in what use to be my office/darkroom/studio and now it’s just a room. The desk is gone, the enlarger is gone, the shelves, cameras, boxes of prints and negatives. Any evidence that I worked here for five years, except perhaps a few marks on the wall, have all been neatly boxed and stored.
It’s just four white walls nows. It’s not our home anymore. Home is the road. Home is each other.
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