What’s your house like?
Not the one that keeps you out of the rain, but the one to which you retreat when times are tough. The house you built from bones, and shards of glass, and pockets of generosity, and life’s gifts.
The house you carry with you, like the tortoise you were meant to be, like the one you are sometimes.
What’s it like? Grandiose, with room to dance? Or just big enough to nap inside?
How do you arrive to that place? Do you run, do you crawl, do you saunter?
How often do you go?
What’s it like in there? Are you safe, and free of fear?
Is it comfortable? Well-furnished? Are there plenty of rugs and pillows?
Do you breathe freely?
Who do you let in? For how long do you entertain?
Do you remember the route inwards? Don’t forget it, keep practicing–it’ll come in handy when you need it most.
Photos of homes, etc. in the neighborhood of Faso Kanu, Magnambougou, Bamako