THIS IS NOT A HOME

In the last year, the usual world order has been blown up. Plans, projects, meetings, events, everything has been cancelled, disappeared in the sudden vortex of an unforeseen event. Lives that flowed steadily in multiple directions stopped in their tracks, then started slowly, drop wise. Accustomed to being surrounded by a changing environment, we witness this radical change in surprise and perplexity. Where there was movement there was silence, where noise, stillness.

Each life became a tunnel. A new space to travel, underground and claustrophobic, a place where new subjective stories are produced, all of them marked by the new experience of the extension of daily time at home. We are at home, but we are not comfortable. At home but alone; more connected, more bewildered, more isolated.  The house is no longer the place that welcomes us, it become the place that imprisons us.

A tunnel to which we do not see the end, a corridor that lengthens, a closed and unidirectional place that takes us forward, from the place we started, to another place that we still do not know. A finite space that contains a time that expands without end.