Containers?

Drawing naked ladies.

“Invisible cities” by Italo Calvino on the sunny balcony all day long.

I went for few days to my mom’s hometown.

I took two pictures of the sky on my way there. I wondered what makes you “feel home” in a place that is not home anymore. What keeps you close to a place? Is it the remembrance of what you did there in the past? Is it the sound of memories even when that place is empty concerning your physical connections? I was wondering, I am wondering, what makes you feel home. Are memories related to places, streets, trees, fields, supermarkets, squares, corners, enough to give you that warm embrace? Does anyone have many homes at the same time? We visited a lot of cemeteries, where some relatives are resting. We sat with other relatives, eating food and walking around. The past was always present, even in our conversations.

I am actually reading a book about Ulysses and his long way back home, to Ithaca, hoping to get some kind of suggestions. The book is titled “Mémoire d’Ulysse” by François Hartog.

I am even thinking a lot about walls.