Every Door I’ve Lived Behind Closing 2023-(ongoing project)

SINCE the age of 19, I have never lived anywhere for more than 18 months at a time. Therefore the word ‘home’ as a simple noun perhaps carries little relevance for me. Of course the metaphorical interpretation, a feeling of belonging, is a subject entirely distinct. Moving around all the time isn’t easy, you must take it seriously, understand what home means to you and how to build it up, maintain it, and be ready to take it down again when the next place calls. Luckily, many aspects of home for me are portable and kept safely – somewhat unconsciously – in my heart, my mind and my memories. While making Mum’s Lemon Daal provides easy nutrition in countries where ingredients are sparse, it also reminds me of her humming in the kitchen while she cooks, conjures images of her in silent meditation at Gaia House and takes me back to visiting monasteries and hosting Buddhist monks in our family home as a child. In moments where I feel lonely, misunderstood or simply unknown to those in my immediate surroundings, remembering where I am from helps to ground me back in the reality of who I am over a lifetime. When I make a cup of tea wherever I find myself, I think of my brother in his aging dressing gown, dipping the tea bag into steaming hot water with his thumb and forefinger. Something inane, risky and low-key annoying to behold in real time but consistently amusing and connecting as a memory. Then, much more locally, what makes home is the community I create where I find myself, I can’t exist in this way alone. I have been very lucky. I’ve found friends in far-flung places that I feel I have known for years, often women, often the bravest and most courageously vulnerable people I’ve ever met. They change me, they challenge me, they make me see things differently. All things I got used to growing up, back home.

—Sophie, West Africa