Conversations 15: The Search for Home
Writing helps. It is almost therapeutic in the elusive quest of home. I change what I write about - how I write too - and also what I read. I rediscover literature as I travel, a lost love. I get back to the novels, after many years of devoting my reading hours to all kinds of serious books. I say, I am not trying to be one up anymore. I am not seeking ideas anymore, I am not looking for arguments. I kneel down to myself, broken, unfit, melancholy, confused me, after coming around the world in search for home and not finding one: Then, sink myself into a beautiful book, a carefully crafted story. Words take me by hand and they don't ask questions: They ferry me to a different time and a different sensibility, one of honour, of belonging, of a story. And, in that illusive world of words, I belong: I find home. No qualifications, anyone is invited there. I stay.