For some, the meaning of "home" is obvious.
For others, not so much.
Home might be a building modeled after the stereotypical four-wall concept where you eat, sleep, and keep your stuff. Or, it might be less about the building and more about who you share it with. It might be a tepee raised on a canyon floor.
A structure might not be involved at all.
Home might be a larger place, or at least (should it be "at most?") a memory of it.
Where, or what, is home for you? How is it defined and what makes it yours? What does it mean to be homeless, and does it always encompass the lack of a roof over your head? Is home improvement a physical or spiritual process? What, besides wheels, makes a home mobile?
There are just some of the questions explored in this issue of Prodigal's Chair.
For others, not so much.
Home might be a building modeled after the stereotypical four-wall concept where you eat, sleep, and keep your stuff. Or, it might be less about the building and more about who you share it with. It might be a tepee raised on a canyon floor.
A structure might not be involved at all.
Home might be a larger place, or at least (should it be "at most?") a memory of it.
Where, or what, is home for you? How is it defined and what makes it yours? What does it mean to be homeless, and does it always encompass the lack of a roof over your head? Is home improvement a physical or spiritual process? What, besides wheels, makes a home mobile?
There are just some of the questions explored in this issue of Prodigal's Chair.
Header photo by T. Guzzio.
