Not Home
The house my parents live in now is not my childhood home. They have lived there for ten years now, but it is still unfamiliar to me. This house is filled with the things that I grew up with and the memories those objects hold, but they are now contained within foreign walls. Not Home is an acknowledgement of the inherent joy and sorrow that comes with the passage of time and the redefining of my relationship with these objects, the house, and with my parents
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