— Frederic Hutter

This week, I bid goodbye to my sister, who will be embarking an important journey in her life from a continent away. Although we've travelled all our lives, and hardly ever lived together, I am making this newsletter to remind her that home is a corner of her heart, that homes ache and feel like people do, and to let her know that I miss her.

xx,

Srish

P.S. We have a new team member, Naeema on board, and she's added some thoughts to the curations of this newsletter. Say Hello!

— Paul Balmer

People are homes for each other.

Homes reassure each other that they are homes.

Some people do not need homes. For them, any room or floor

will do. They live in travel. their hearts are rivers.

— People Are Looking For Homes, Cyril Wong

— Naomi Shihab Nye

There are places you live
in and there are places you
inhabit. At home the silence kills
where no one is at home with
themselves. Someone tries a whistle
attempting to bring just a little bird-
song into the atmosphere. Lights
flicker on-off steadily but nothing
will change. The computer blinks
Hello! with excitement
but I am forever hiding.

— Identify, Michelle Tan

Either way we call it love because we want to believe that there is a force larger than us that makes us capable of caring about something more than ourselves. A force untouched by the exterior world. The closest thing we have to permanence. The closest thing we have to home.

— And The Walls Come Crumbling Down, Tania De Rozario

The earth is bright with beauty,

And the distant sky is fair;

Over hill and o'er the meadow,

In the sunlight and the air.

How bright and how enchanting,

Is each object as we roam,

And how sweet is life's contentment,

With the happiness of home.

— Septimus Winner, The Happiness of Home

— Cressida Campbell

"The pain I don't say builds a home inside me."

— Life of the Party, Olivia Garwood

Somedays walking past my neighbours, I see their doors open and little children shouting "goodbyes" and blowing kisses to their parents going to work, and in those moments a part of me slows down from the life I'm running after, and I miss home... I miss the smell of sabji cooking in the kitchen in the morning, the birds chirping in the yard where my mom leaves little crumbs of bread for them. I miss my dog who pounces on me every 15 minutes to remind me he misses me after I went into the other room, my dad sips chai and reads his newspaper aloud and these are the little things that make my home a home... and then as I get back to work, all these thoughts clear away and the timely schedules begin.. but I know anytime I see something that reminds me of home I'm gonna crave to breathe the air inside my room and feel the calm wind blowing in through my window.

— Naeema

— Richard Faust

“Loving someone is like moving into a house," Sonja used to say. "At first you fall in love with all the new things, amazed every morning that all this belongs to you, as if fearing that someone would suddenly come rushing in through the door to explain that a terrible mistake had been made, you weren't actually supposed to live in a wonderful place like this. Then over the years the walls become weathered, the wood splinters here and there, and you start to love that house not so much because of all its perfection, but rather for its imperfections. You get to know all the nooks and crannies. How to avoid getting the key caught in the lock when it's cold outside. Which of the floorboards flex slightly when one steps on them or exactly how to open the wardrobe doors without them creaking. These are the little secrets that make it your home.”
― A Man Called Ove, Fredrik Backman

— Kim English

Naeema Kamal is a freelance artist and writer who's finishing her second year in architecture. You can find her on Instagram @naeemakamal

As always, you can find more art & poetry on our website ~ unographymag.com