What is a home? A place where you live, a shelter where you stay in storm, a habitat where the settings are according to your design and desire...home sweet home, home way home...A word becoming stranger and stranger, blurred and blunted. When the edge of a homeland is fading in the sight of a self, a thought or a sign can determine how something has been lost taking into account some gain acquired. Norm is something that has formulated a rule and custom after repeated occurrence and acceptance. When a change of environment twists the angle of perspective, a sentiment of variation takes place simply like a process of cell mutation. When the present meets the past, a collusion cracks. I revisited some places in the past, and I dropped my memory from the sub-consciousness. Am I the one I am? Is there something there is? A trace of light in the shadow can be a repeated process for a search of a homeland where I would be staying in. Homing home.
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