Being home
In a world of displacement, migrations and wrenching from all that people seem to know, I find myself wondering about place. The place I call home. What it means to me. Really - when the chips are down, and there is little that makes sense, what is this notion of ‘home’? What does the man with all his belongings in a supermarket trolley do about a sense of place? He unpacks for the night, to sleep as a homeless person under a bridge near where I live. Does the knowledge each
