I always thought that owning a house outright would make it feel like home. I was wrong; it still feels like a house. I’ve lost count of how many houses I’ve lived in - more than 40, less than 50. I’ve painted the walls, hung pictures, and planted flowers but have never felt at home in any of them. “Home” is an alien concept to me. A home should be a haven that provides safety, nurture, and a place to be one’s self. Throughout my life, I’ve been more comfortable outside than in, both physically and emotionally. Although I would like my house to feel like a home, I doubt it ever will. Home, to me, has always been outdoors; wandering the forests, wading rivers, being alone in the silence.
Looking through the Window is a two-fold statement. First, it represents my yearning for a brick and mortar home, a place to feel safe, a place where I fit in rather than being on the outside looking in. Secondly, Looking through the Window represents my desire to escape the environmental degradation that is occurring to those places that once were my haven. I want to escape the air pollution, traffic, noise, and overpopulation that permeates the world.