building houses…

for october 8

letmeout

If you have a story of home or its absence, we’d love to hear it.

Skype ‘theresnoplacelikeit’ or call +61 3 9015 9781 and leave us a message with your story of home or its absence. We’ll be using the stories – no names, of course – as part of our Melbourne Fringe Festival installation on October 8.

1 Comments

  1. peter gardner

    I had been on pilgrimage for about a week, on the Camino de Santigo in Spain. The absence of home hit me hard in Puente La Riena. The hostel was welcoming. I was in a room of Spanish pilgrims who were boistrous and friendly but I felt isolated, far from home and family. It was only that I began to realise what it meant to cross the threshold, to enter the liminal space of the Camino. That liminal threshold was not crossed into somewhere but out of somewhere, leaving home, out the door, away from all that was familiar and loved. Phoning only made the distance further and I wandered into a small church, plain by Spanish standards and sat feeling far from home in the house of God. A heavy wooden crucifix hung above the altar, a solitary decoration. Christ had hung there for a long time and as I contemplated his lonely stillness a voice in my head kept saying “It’s ok, you are far from home, but you are here with me” I am still not sure which of the two of us was speaking but I came away knowing where home might be.

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