Five times 15.
Thank you very much.
I want to go home.
In those five words, I can hear so much of the emotion and the longing of my life.
Home.
I want to go back there.
I think that all of us at some point have longed for home.
But what does home, what does it really mean?
Is it a place that you can return to, an actual location?
Or is it the memory of a place bathed in the rosy pink glow of perspective and nostalgia?
Is it a physical place, like a landscape or city,
a street or wood, an ocean or beach that you feel especially connected to?
And is home something less tangible, something ineffable?
Is it a memory, a feeling, or even the memory of a feeling or imagination?
Is home the act of imagination itself?
Home as a place, a memory, a subject,
a location is something that has obsessed me and haunted me too, since I can first remember.
Feeling that longing for home is something that I've thought of since I was very small.
And homesickness is one of my earliest memories.
I was about five or six years old and I was staying at the house of a friend as my mother had unusually gone away for a single night.