Tag: time

Post number 43
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A Slack Rope

Brigit Egging
I travel from place to place. I settle for a while. I am settled, for the moment. I think about travelling to new places and also places I have been. A few places have felt like home. I belonged there. I keep memories of these homes like souvenirs, and every now and then I unpack them and look at them and feel the tightening of a slack rope. I remember belonging, and keep that feeling too like a souvenir, in some ways more precious than my actual memories of people and places and things that I did. Belonging. I treasure it. I search for more of it. I travel from place to place. I settle for a while. I am settled, for the moment. I think about... belonging.
Post number 42
Connected to posts number 14 and 24 and 41 and
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Maps

J. L. Baudry
I am fond of maps. I often travelled. When I left it a place became a space again, and probably a place for someone else. Some places don't exist anymore, they remain spaces. I opften found myself mapping that space, between being rooted in one place and unrooted.
Post number 40
Connected to posts number 43 and
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Falling off the Ladder

J. L. Baudry
The room pitches and spins. My arms splay out, and I drop into nothing. It takes a long time. Like the journey of light from stars that, by the time we put an eye to the telescope, have pinwheeled into the darkness. I reach for something, anything to hold on to. My recollections of past homes seem solid until I try to put any weight on them.
Post number 22
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The Uncanny II

Brigit Egging
Uncanniness was first explored psychologically by Ernst Jentsch in a 1906 essay, 'On the Psychology of the Uncanny'. Jentsch defines the uncanny as: being a product of "intellectual uncertainty; so that the uncanny would always, as it were, be something one does not know one’s way about in. The better oriented in his environment a person is, the less readily will he get the impression of something uncanny in regard to the objects and events in it.
Post number 18

Not going home

Tobias Baudry
Sometimes a place makes you feel more at home than home itself. Sitting in the corner of a library, reading a book. Or on a bench in the park. I recorded this song a few years ago about suddenly feeling so connected to a place that, for a short while, I didn't actually want to go home.
Post number 12
Connected to posts number 17 and 31 and
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Landmarks

Tobias Baudry
These streets are familiar, the cobblestone patterns and manicured roundabouts, and the people zipping past on bikes, chatting and quarreling like birds. I walk through the city, self-conscious but happy, vaguely aware of the direction I’m headed. Down through the park with the musical sculpture. Over a footbridge that crosses the tracks. Somewhere in a drawer at home I have photos of me as a boy running around that sculpture and standing on tip-toe to look down at the tracks. I enter a district of small boutique shops with neat window displays tucked under their awnings. These were here last time. These I remember. Landmarks of a place that was never quite home.
When I visit the Dutch city where I was born, I always have a mixed feeling of being both a tourist and a native. I recognise some streets and buildings and places. Walking or cycling by these personal landmarks almost makes me feel like I'm home.
Post number 5
Connected to posts number 22 and
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The Uncanny

Brigit Egging
There is a dilapidated house standing in the fields behind my house. It always scared my children a little, while holding a certain magnetic pull for them as well. We used to call it the witch's house. It looks old and tumble-down, but that's charming too, and I'm always reminded of it whenever I drive past an empty cottage somewhere in the west of Ireland - another witch's house.
Post number 4
Connected to posts number 36 and
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Frozen home

Brigit Egging
My memories of home don't match what's there anymore. It has changed over the years, of course, while my memories are locked-down. I took those memories with me when I left, and in a way that's where my old home really exists, now. In my mind's eye.
Post number 3

Drifting

Brigit Egging
"Heidegger describes humans as drifting along groundless in life but the anxiety of this drifting is concealed by our self-assured everyday interpretation of life. As long as we can remain convinced by the taken-for-granted appearance of life, we create the impression of ground, covering over the uncanniness of existence."

- Greg Madison, The End of Belonging.