a home, you say?
You say- What do I know about the world, about change, about people, about places?
When I never step foot outside my porch.
What do I know about constantly moving to a different place, the struggles of meeting new people, the struggles of leaving people behind, the struggles of fitting in; the new language, the new food, the new customs, the new society, what do I know about all these pains?
It is true. I have lived in the same house for 19 years. I have lived in the same part of the same town, my whole life.
But, don’t you dare compare my life to yours. Don’t you dare say that I have it better.
Don’t you fucking dare.
I’m surrounded by four walls that never widen, shorten or move. They’re not flexible. The walls are fixed.
What do you know about a house that looks the exact same from the outside for decades, and the people inside are the same?
What do you know about watching the same people slowly change, their behaviour change, their mindset change, their attitudes change. Life happens to all, all of us people in the same house. We go outside, life happens and we come back home changed. Everyday.
18 stairs, 6 windows, 6 fans, 5 doors, 3 bedrooms, 2 balconies, 2 floors, 1 terrace.
Every. Single. Day.
The walls don’t change. The people do.
The language doesn’t change. The food doesn’t change.
The affection changes. The relationships change. The attitude changes.
No, I don’t know much about constantly moving into a new place, but do you know about a house, made of brick and mortar, not feeling like a home?