Without A Home

For most of 2021 I held no residence. Unintentionally. A natural longing, I found myself uninterested in obtaining a “permanent” residence. I rented out a commercial studio in the town I grew up in the area where my parents bought their home. I lived and worked out of it.

I bought furniture from IKEA’s ‘As-Is’ section and a local furniture shops. My Mother came and potted flowers for the windowsill. My Father brought leftovers from his job. I lived by a co-op and purchased baguettes and cheese from a local bakery. I got a membership at a nearby gym and took advantage of the showers. This was nearing the end of Autumn.

I would take the train to NY like I used to when I was 21. I’d stay in a hotel. Sometimes for a day or two, sometimes a week. My trips were far more to the point than before. If I had a lunch or dinner meeting, I’d handle that and then cruise around and see what else was happening. I’d check on stores that stocked Cereal & Such. I’d always buy a box and hand it off to a passerby. Then i’d return to my hotel, sometimes ready to book a return ticket sometimes still feeling the urge to remain. But when it was time I would head right back to my studio. I used that studio as a satellite as I traveled the world. Fiji, Hokkaido, Los Angeles, Italy. Taking it as it came, from the comfort of a travelers backpack.

I never felt at home in my hometown, although, I've never felt at home anywhere I've lived. Perhaps that is feeling that I am sinking into: allowing the current of life to take me as it pleases. There is a feeling of surrender that has remained as early as I can remember.