Home away from Home
I have moved from Weston to Weston.
From Weston in Southampton to Weston on The Isle of Portland, Weymouth.
Bar the same name of place I have noticed a few other interesting things.
I have noticed that:
They are both by the sea.
They are both supplied with the First Bus service. (I must say the service seems a lot better on this end!)
And just around the corner from the flat is a boat named Molly…
Coincidences? I think not!
I’m now led in my new bed, in my new room with the same duvet,
the same pillows and the same sheets I had last night.
Is this a new room?
It’s funny how we can just install all our personal belongings into any space and then suddenly we've got a new home. It’s like I never left my room.
My room is now here, with me.
I could be almost anywhere and not much would change, because it’s still me, in a room, with my things.
Perhaps the walls aren’t green, no...
But my objects are green still. And it's still the same room.
I feel connected with anywhere I have ever lived.
These belongings have travelled with me, they have experienced my life with me, and they have spent day in and day out with me. They are the extension of home.
They are my home. We define space, and my objects define this room as home.
It feels like this room is connected to my room at home with a piece of string and the two rooms are the plastic cups at either end.