We asked the participants of the workshop Il mondo in una stanza what “home” was for them. Here are some excerpts from their writings.
In a city called Asfi we stopped at a market to take a tour and found among the stalls some beautiful handmade and traditional objects of the place. After a few rounds we saw these two jewelry boxes of a beautiful red with a beautiful heart shape. We fell in love with them and hid them until we returned to Casablanca. This for me is home.
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Me and my sister – I don’t know – when we are in the living room with my mother’s friends and by custom we drink and eat peanuts with paprika… That glass warmed in the morning eaten with bread and jam, always there for those who hate milk and coffee, that if it’s not there I feel lost because I don’t know what to do…
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No phones, movies or TV series, just us on the sofa who can tell each other everything, but sometimes we don’t say anything or we say nonsense and we go far…
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Ah! Dear glass, how much you know about me. Not everyone is able to fill you with a good atay mchafar, good sweet with tkeshkusha. Even in summer in Morocco we have your peers on the kitchen shelf…
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My mother, in front of the house with the cat in her arms and around all the plants and a sunny day. What could be more beautiful?
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The little Tajine, you put oil or butter in it in the morning to have breakfast… I’ve been eating it since I was little…
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Scent of home, mint, morning, breakfast, tradition, reunited family, origins, culture, home, tranquility, scent of “old” (ancient?), hospitality, sweets, serenity. Tea, hot, sweet.
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How many have passed through my house and have been my home. Precious object that I give when you are part of me. Keys that open a world, mine exactly…
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Hot, cold, very quiet, but what do I know? What sleeps it makes me do sometimes, but others less: it’s very strange.
