Seventh Home

As I attempt to rebuild for the seventh time, the stability of a conventional home is becoming something of a fantasy. The idea is broken apart, with images of different houses and different states, all swirling together in my head. As time moves on, these memories merge and fade together, and it becomes increasingly clear that home can never mean a place for me. 

Leaving behind pieces of myself with every move, my world continues to shift. Each change adds to a sense of instability, as tiny cracks begin to form in that idea of home. As the place I inhabit is ever-changing, my only constant is my family.

With mixed feelings about my current home, I examine the spaces within it and the imprint my family is leaving behind. I explore a dreamlike version of my reality, a space lost in time and memory.