A Dwelling Place

Tears streamed from her eyes. Eyes that had seen humiliation and heartache again that very morning. Eyes that had seen humiliation time and time again. She felt exposed. Out of control. Out of place. Being in a place that is not your home will do that to you. In one sense, you feel completely enclosed, "encerrada" as my Latino friends in the States have referred to it. You are imprisoned in your own world because you don't have unrestricted access to theirs. But not enclosed in a safe, hiding place sort of way. No, rather, while feeling cut off, you're at the very same time shamefully exposed. I could identify with her tears in a way that I wouldn't have been able to 10 days ago.

But being in a place that is not your home is so much closer to reality. For those that are born into a new family, this world is not our home. We are sojourners. Foreigners. Not able to keep the rules of this culture because they collide so much with the place we call home. The place we have not come to. Yet.

So, for now, here are pictures of the place I will reside in for 3 months. My flat is on the 3rd floor (though technically the 4th). My gracious host is Britta, who I have yet to meet. It is cozy and quaint. My favorite feature of the apartment building is the courtyard, which is nestled in the middle of 4 windowed-walls. So, when I look out my windows I can see right into the windows of the other apartments, provided that the lighting is cooperative - very Rear Window-esque (see: Alfred Hitcock). Unfortunately, no suspicious murder scenes yet. But, I will keep my binoculars near by. Stay tuned.