I’m homeless
I have been homeless for 16 years. I'm almost thirty and I don't know what it's like to come home to the place where I grew up. I don't know where to find a place I can call home. I can't even visit my parents because I can't return to the country where I grew up, or else I'll be sent to fight in a criminal war. I am homeless not because I became a marginalized member of society, or because I lack work and education. Not at all.
When you lose physical access to the place that holds your memories of home, you begin to ponder. What is "home" to me? Is it a physical space or is it the people? Or is it the combination of space and people? Or is it a place that is solely yours, not shared with classmates, other tenants, or fish? I lived in a dormitory for students for about six years. Physically, I had my own room - a mere five square meters. But naturally, it was not my home because I always knew it was a temporary space where other people would live later. But even in your "home," other people, animals, or plants will eventually live if your home becomes abandoned. So, in addition to family and place, the sense of time or an illusion of permanence without an expiration date becomes necessary.
However, many people live in rented apartments and do not experience any problems with feeling "at home" when they rent for years and move. The issue of property ownership is not as acute for them because they have other elements of stability in their lives. In some countries, it is even impossible to buy property; you can only rent it for hundreds of years. Does the sense of home change if you know you are the owner of the property? It seems that ownership alone doesn't mean much, as you can buy many apartments and houses in different countries, but it is unlikely that they will all become your home.
So, perhaps the sense of home is simply the feeling of stability in your existence in this life? Maybe we are always substituting concepts, and when we talk about "home," we are always referring to "stability." Nowadays, stability is often understood as the absence of shocks or upheavals. I was born and raised in Russia. My whole life consists of a series of shocks and attempts to recover from them. Stability has always been a swear word for me; it was used to calm my young rebellious soul that craved
excitement. Oh, how wrong I was. Now I think that millions of people around the world live very unstable lives.
It’s the loss of emotional connection to a place that can easily bring you comfort and warmth. Except, of course, for hanging out with friends at a bar or visiting, where you just chat and forget about everything. Because such socializing always comes with the price of a hangover.
It's the need to pay rent every month, which sometimes exceeds all your other expenses.
But on the other hand, these conditions have become the breeding ground for developing adaptability in almost any situation within me. I can sleep on a bad mattress. Yes, my back hurts just like yours, but it's a minor detail. At some point, I feel like a weed that grows regardless of the conditions you put it in. No matter how hard you try to uproot it. It's a constant and necessary vitality without which one I cannot live. Maybe it is not really a part of me, although all my friends would say otherwise. Perhaps, for me, vitality is just a warm jacket without which I cannot survive the cold. Maybe it’s not a part of me, but merely a tool that I have. But does that make me worse? I don't think it makes sense to answer that question. Perhaps I should just acknowledge it. Yet, I can easily feel "at home" in almost any place. I can immediately identify where the essential life points are in space and the rules by which everything exists. That's why I always preferred site-specific theater, as it doesn't mimic reality but seeks to enhance the existing reality through integration and exploration. It was one of the necessary tools for me to find a common language with everything around me. Two weeks ago, I received a voice message from a close friend of mine. He described in detail how the apartment we lived in together four years ago, in which he still lives, has changed. We rented it from an elderly pianist who lived in another city. At some point, he says that the landlady decided to sell the apartment and he has to move out within two weeks. I was honestly shocked. Remembering that apartment, I feel like I could have called it my home at some point because everything aligned. I had a stable job, cheap rent with an indefinite lease term, good friends, and a time when there weren't so many wars happening around. But now, with the sale of that apartment, even that feeling begins to dissolve.
teenage posters, and secrets known only to you. The home was a place of the past forme. In this situation, I am definitely homeless. Perhaps that place still exists, but I simply don't have access to it now.
The value of physical space in this understanding significantly diminishes, and "home" transitions from a spatial concept to a social construct. Because your future can only exist with the existence of other people's futures. But, even in that moment, home still loses that beautiful feeling of ease and stability. Home becomes the place where you must prove who you are and what you're worth. And that becomes the opposite statement, leading to the other extreme. Either you are in the past, or you are in the future. But in the present, it seems like you can't be home.
In this profound realization, the idea of home expands beyond a physical place. It becomes a social construct that involves the connections between individuals and their aspirations. In this understanding, your own future is intertwined with the futures of others. Home is no longer just a location. However, in this shift, the traditional sense of stability that home provides starts to fade. Home becomes a space where you feel the pressure to prove your worth and establish your identity. It's a delicate balancing act between finding your place and continuously justifying your presence.
This creates a paradox. To feel at home, you either cling to the comfort of the past or yearn for the possibilities of the future. Meanwhile, the present moment, where true belonging should reside, seems elusive. Ultimately, home becomes a reflection of personal identity. It's about finding a balance between the stability of the past, the potential of the future, and a sense of belonging in the present moment. And I still feel homeless.
November 2023
Potpuri është një platformë e pavarur botuese dhe iniciativë bashkëpunuese e fokusuar në metodologjitë eksperimentale të kërkimit, gazetarisë investigative dhe prodhimit. Fokusi i procesit të punës së Potpurit është nxitja e metodologjive kolektive në praktikat e botimit për prodhimin e gazetave fizike. Kolektivi Potpuri është i bazuar ndërmjet Kosovës dhe Zvicrës, aktiviteti ynë kërkon tema dhe urgjenca të përbashkëta sociale si ringjallja e shtypit të shkruar në Kosovë, mungesa e hapësirave institucionale reflektuese për diasporën shqiptare në Zvicër, politikat dhe dukuritë sociale nën përvojat migratore, dhe më e rëndësishmja sigurimi i një hapësire mikpritëse për shprehjet e zërave të padëgjuar brenda mjediseve komerciale.
Potpuri is an independent publishing platform and collaborative initiative focused on experimental methodologies of research, investigative journalism and production. The focus of the work-process of Potpuri is the fostering of collective methodologies in publishing practices for the production of physical newspapers. Potpuri collective is based between Kosovo and Switzerland, our activity seeks for common social themes and urgencies such as the revival of printed press in Kosovo, the absence of reflective institutional spaces for the Albanian diaspora in Switzerland, the politics and social phenomena under migratory experiences, and most importantly providing a welcoming space for expressions of voices unheard within commercial settings.
Potpuri ist eine unabhängige Veröffentlichungsplattform und Initiative, die sich auf experimentelle Forschungsmethoden, investigativen Journalismus und Produktion konzentriert. Der Schwerpunkt des Arbeitsprozesses von Potpuri liegt in der Förderung kollektiver Methoden der Verlagspraxis für die Produktion von Zeitungen. Das Potpuri-Kollektiv arbeitet im Kosovo und der Schweiz. Unsere Themen und Dringlichkeiten wie der Wiederbelebung der gedruckten Presse im Kosovo reichen von dem Fehlen reflektierender institutioneller Räume für die albanische Diaspora in der Schweiz und den sozialen Phänomenen der Migrationserfahrungen. Ein Raum für Ausdruck von Stimmen, die in kommerziellen Umgebungen häufig ungehört bleiben.
This edition was produced with the financial support of the European Union, Provitreff Verein and “ici. here together”. The content of this publication is the sole responsibility of NGO Rritu and NAFAKË and does not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union or any other funding body.
Potpuri është një platformë e pavarur botuese dhe iniciativë bashkëpunuese e fokusuar në metodologjitë eksperimentale të kërkimit, gazetarisë investigative dhe prodhimit. Fokusi i procesit të punës së Potpurit është nxitja e metodologjive kolektive në praktikat e botimit për prodhimin e gazetave fizike. Kolektivi Potpuri është i bazuar ndërmjet Kosovës dhe Zvicrës, aktiviteti ynë kërkon tema dhe urgjenca të përbashkëta sociale si ringjallja e shtypit të shkruar në Kosovë, mungesa e hapësirave institucionale reflektuese për diasporën shqiptare në Zvicër, politikat dhe dukuritë sociale nën përvojat migratore, dhe më e rëndësishmja sigurimi i një hapësire mikpritëse për shprehjet e zërave të padëgjuar brenda mjediseve komerciale.
Potpuri is an independent publishing platform and collaborative initiative focused on experimental methodologies of research, investigative journalism and production. The focus of the work-process of Potpuri is the fostering of collective methodologies in publishing practices for the production of physical newspapers. Potpuri collective is based between Kosovo and Switzerland, our activity seeks for common social themes and urgencies such as the revival of printed press in Kosovo, the absence of reflective institutional spaces for the Albanian diaspora in Switzerland, the politics and social phenomena under migratory experiences, and most importantly providing a welcoming space for expressions of voices unheard within commercial settings.
Potpuri ist eine unabhängige Veröffentlichungsplattform und Initiative, die sich auf experimentelle Forschungsmethoden, investigativen Journalismus und Produktion konzentriert. Der Schwerpunkt des Arbeitsprozesses von Potpuri liegt in der Förderung kollektiver Methoden der Verlagspraxis für die Produktion von Zeitungen. Das Potpuri-Kollektiv arbeitet im Kosovo und der Schweiz. Unsere Themen und Dringlichkeiten wie der Wiederbelebung der gedruckten Presse im Kosovo reichen von dem Fehlen reflektierender institutioneller Räume für die albanische Diaspora in der Schweiz und den sozialen Phänomenen der Migrationserfahrungen. Ein Raum für Ausdruck von Stimmen, die in kommerziellen Umgebungen häufig ungehört bleiben.
This edition was produced with the financial support of the European Union, Provitreff Verein and “ici. here together”.
The content of this publication is the sole responsibility of NGO Rritu and NAFAKË and does not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union or any other funding body.
The content of this publication is the sole responsibility of NGO Rritu and NAFAKË and does not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union or any other funding body.