The cabinets of the hallway are filled with old photographs. 

Memories flood you each time you pass.

One morning, I noticed how the sunlight was focused on a particular frame.

The one with me and my sister as kids outside our old home, I'm wearing a pink dress and she is in her jean suit. 

I've never spoken about her with love, words have always been hard to articulate.

The past seems to haunt me often. 

But the sunlight was so sweet that day, her face bright with a smile.
It reminded me of the smiles we used to share instead of tears, the screams of laughter instead of anger. 

I could see her again & I was reminded that the darkness of the past will always haunt you unless you shed light on it.

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Winner of the fourth prize of the A-Place Mapping contest "Share your experiences of domestic places" 2022

Physical experiences shape the way beings perceive the tangible terrene, and their sense of belonging arises from the memories brought along. A single place, in its essence, might be apodictic. But when shaped through an individual's perception, it is incomparably idiosyncratic. In this context, crossing into others' bubbles of reality elevates one's level of consciousness.

Home, stripped from every notion outside of its door when it’s shut, is what each individual finds within, carries along, and cultivates throughout their journey. Therefore, the concept of location is futile. Be that as it may, the impact of the whereabouts of individuals molds their persona irreversibly through acquired memories.

The shelter I currently live under is the one I call second place. As an individual in a state of foreignness for years, I have this second apartment that made me a different person and started a new chapter in my life. It is a new neighborhood, a new phase in my story.

I lived in an apartment for four years in a foreign country, and then I had to change my home and leave behind my first discoveries and initial stories throughout my journey. Then I relocated and realized I relocated my sense of belonging once more, this time by being more settled, experienced, resilient, and mature as I raised myself and thrived within my sense of belonging.

Every day I wake up seeing outside through my balcony door in every form when it is sunny or gloomy. I look at the books that I consider as the objects that provide me the feeling of growing roots inside of me more and more, day by day. Then, I look at the plants that I take care of that evoke as I take care of the roots inside me, every day with new challenges still growing and evolving. That is how I give myself a momentary pause before I get into the unknown challenges daily, and no matter what stage my emotions or concerns are at, to show off my gratitude to myself and my shelter as my second place, my sanctuary.

Llegar. Descalzarse. Poner la pava. Hacer un mate. 

El sol entra por la ventana justo en la esquina contraria, donde está el sofá. Me recuesto en él y miro la nada. Me gusta mirar la nada. La nada es un espacio con cosas, con detalles, miro las hojas del potus, hay una muerta o una nueva. La hiedra (se llama hiedra? me lo pregunto, no lo sé, tampoco googleo la respuesta) se movió, nadie la tocó asique ella solita movió sus hojas para seguir los rayos de luz. Observo el cuadro, los detalles de la ilustración, me pierdo en las finas líneas y colores. Me lo se de memoria, aún así, siempre descubro cosas nuevas. La nada no es la nada, está llena de cosas, pero cada cosa me hace detenerme y observar. Me hace presente en ese momento. Observar me adentra en mí, cada pensamiento hila una situación, una experiencia, a veces personas, a veces aromas. 

La nada es la nada, pero al mismo tiempo, es todo.

I try to do my laundry at the end of every week.

When the morning sun is touching my balcony doors, I feel motivated to do it early in the day, so the clothes and linen can get a good amount of fresh sun rays.

I can see people around putting their fresh laundry in a rooftops of apartment buildings. Probably because the awnings and the greenery on their balconies are shading them too much. Big bed linens are dancing between antennas and sun panels where they are becoming a standard part of window views.  

In our balcony we don’t have an awning because our landlord is too penny-pinching, so my washings always have an opportunity to be touched by the sun, even if I leave them inside. The shadows of clothes can play freely, without interruptions by branches of greenery.

Sometimes I’m too indolent to organize washing schedule with other room-mates and I’m postponing it until I’m out of clothes to wear. In the meantime, my laundry stand is staying open for more days as it is necessary. I like the feeling of having my clothes hanging around, where they are co-living with my other small pieces. Together they are presenting my characteristics in personal, weekly changing pop-up exhibitions.

The process of doing the laundry feels like the process of communicating with neighbours. In the mornings I can hear their washing machine. I’m guessing that they are an older generation because they wake up so early, maybe they are having a siesta in the afternoon. We are talking through smells of our washed clothes being merged into each other.

I’ve done more than 50 laundries in this place, and I have around 5 of them left. The practice of doing the laundry is moving with me and through it, I become a part of a surroundings. It is hard to define my home, but wherever I’m doing my laundry, I feel like I’m able to describe it as my domestic place. 

Winner of the second prize of the A-Place Mapping contest "Share your experiences of domestic places" 2022

Ahh! That enticing old book scent, the feel of turning fresh new pages and relishing the printed words... spending time in my cosy reading nook filled with “portable magic” transports me to new lands, takes me on a journey to far away places and mysterious worlds and yet makes me feel like home. I find solace between the pages of the book. It spurs my creativity and imagination. That feeling is so unique.

If you want to live a thousand lives before you die, read books!

‘’She was looking at me almost every single day of the last 1,5 years. Well... She was not really looking at me. I was inside her gaze but she was actually looking at the sky, the sun, the trees, the branches, the pine cones, the houses and the cars passing through. A very little amount of cars passing through. Once I noticed she counted the trees outside. She doubted what she counted. She was not sure if some trees were hiding behind others. 'I don’t believe in numbers' she thought. She counted them again the next day. '16. Weird. They really look less.' 

I was here the whole time, I saw her making coffee, sitting on that couch, eating breakfast, closing her eyes, listening to the birds, reading, watching movies, having sex, laughing, crying, spilling coffee, looking outside, staring at the sky… She almost never looked at me, but I knew that she knew I was here. Me and the ashtray that always sits on me. Of course she knew. She looked at me every day. Well, I was inside her gaze every day. 

One time I heard her crying. I heard her say 'I miss simple things. Simple. Very simple things. The things that we do every day without thinking about them. Going out, meeting friends, sitting on a bench in a sunny day. I feel like I lost myself. I cannot produce. I am not able to do anything. I feel like a failure, I feel like I failed.' At that moment she was looking at me. I heard the man saying 'don’t be unfair to yourself. The whole world has stopped.' As she turned her face from him, I can swear that we came eye to eye. With her red, tearful eyes, she sniffed and she pointed at me saying ‘I feel like that chair’.

Today she took a photo of me. Well… I was inside the gaze of the camera so I think I was inside the frame. Then she counted the cigarettes in the ashtray. 125. She thought 'that’s a lot of numbers for an ashtray’.''

Winner of the fourth prize of the A-Place Mapping contest "Share your experiences of domestic places" 2022

I live in a small house with limited rooms, and therefore, I never had the chance to create a personal workspace,  so I  had to divide my bedroom into two small areas: a sculpting corner, and some space  for my bed. The first thing that I see when I wake up is my workspace, and it is also the last thing I see when I go to sleep. Due to the limited space of my bedroom, my artworks became, overtime, one huge pile that limits my movement around my room, yet I still enjoy spending and investing a lot of time doing what I love the most. I have always dreamt of extending our house so I can turn it into an open space for cabinet of curiosity, where everyone can come to see my creations. In Tunisia, the number of galleries is limited, as well as artisric opportunitinies, but more than that, the concept of cabinet of curiosity does not exist! which becomes the reason why I am aiming to create my own public cabinet of curiosity.

My little cousins, in their toddler age, has an immense love for cars and vehicles. One of them has deep love for police cars and he loves to rescue animals who are injured and take them to hospital, the gorilla is the doctor for him. He often asks that he wants to play with his cars on road and bing.... We had a plan. One of the room in their house is made of cement, without any tile furnishing and we have a little library there. So, we made road map for them, and placed some building models like police station, hospital and airport as landmarks and their destination points and set the cars to play on the road with a chowk at the center. It is their play area now and when they first saw it they were out of words and expressing their joy by jumping and rushing in to play. What a joyful sight. As much as i enjoyed their expressions, I enjoyed making this whole space tranform into play area and yes i played with cars as well. Because, why not!

Winner of the first prize of the A-Place Mapping contest "Share your experiences of domestic places" 2022

My high school student life was all about studying and focusing on grades and intellectual discussions. In childhood I enjoyed arts and crafts activities, but as we grew it was all left behind. After graduation, when I had time to slow down and look around my room and reflect on how my room didn't reflect my personality, not as a child, not even now. There were many difficult memories as well. So then I chose to make my room look more like me and who I want to be. I didn't care of my age, I just listened to my inner child and expressed her on my walls however it liked. So the butterflies (wild and free) after years of isolation and transformation were ready to fly and inspire. Now, whenever I look at this (once beige and uninspiring wall) fills me with joy and motivation to do something new and amazing. My nieces and nephews whenever visit me, they first come to my room and expresses joy and admiration for this wall. They say in awe, "wow, so many butterflies" and I have noticed them displaying their artwork on wall as well in their house and their parents allow them too because they have seen me do it too. I sit here on this couch (that I consider a floor mat, with a height) and make my to do list and also do my chakra tapping exercises and what not. I enjoy this place in my room, my seclusion zone full of creative freedom and expressin. 

This window on West tells me the weather outside. It protects from direct light and heat as it's covered with greenery outside, but it gives me the message of God through its shine and the intensity about the seasonal changes in my city. When it rains in summers, I sit on the couch and listen to the heavenly sounds and miss the sunshine while enjoying the dark clouds. And when the sun rays peak in during the winters, I thank God for protecting me with His warmth. This is my favorite spot at home, it opens my mind and nourishes my soul, and this is where I sit down to write my heart out usually. 

My home has a sacred ground in my heart. It is a place where I can be my weirdest and the most authentic self. A place that will be right there waiting for me when I come back. A place where the stress of life melts away evoking a sigh of relief within and reminds me of the countless memories and values that shaped me as I walk through. Home means that no matter how challenging life gets, there will be someone looking out for me.

It’s the warm bed that I can’t get out of in the morning, the inviting aroma of tea brewing in the kitchen, the taste of mom’s breakfast while I am still tousle-haired and sleepy and the endless conversations at the dining table. It's the distinctive sound of the gravel as dad rolls down the car into the driveway, the wonderful sight of my grandparents talking their morning stroll, the ever-growing collection of books to be read on that shelf.

There’s no place on earth I’d rather be!

The light coming in through the curtain of my bedroom window wakes me up every morning to say good morning. I drink tea while I open the curtains to start the day.

Good morning Barcelona ...