Thursday, July 28, 2005

home from home
There's something about travel that focuses the mind on home, the home that the heart craves and the mind peacespieces together from a complex geography of experiences. There's something about having your home town in trouble that makes you love it all the more and feel the need to be there. What's the word for that feeling, the kissing cousin of patriotism? And yet, home is something I carry with me, a quilt stitched of peculiarities: the smell of Arcadia in the heat, the taste of patates and horta eaten in Koutouki (little shack) surrounded by drunk artists and failed revolutionaries, O'Malley's coffee shop, Seven Dials, Culver cliff and the undercliff...and Northampton. I love it here - it's my fourth visit to this little town and I've met so many wonderful people, had so many great nights filled with beautiful conversations. Since TA and I are in the process of attempting to buy a home of our own my mind is a magpie, all that glitters invitingly gets added to the memory hoard. Love adds its patina to seemingly inconsequential details - a pewter-framed mirror once seen in a Nafplio shop, the label saved from a bottle of hot sauce, the quilt I have yet to sew. My mismatched nest continues to take form around me.

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