After the war broke out and people were fleeing from Ukraine, refugees gradually started to arrive in Munich, where I was living. In the beginning of March, I went to the train station regularly to volunteer at Caritas. It struck me how refugees arrived with only a few suitcases, leaving their home completely behind, not knowing if they will ever be able to go back, if their homes will still be there, or is becoming ruins at this moment.
For me it is one of the most humane gesture to construct a home, arranging space in a certain way so that one starts to feel security, comfort, as well as a sense of belonging and attachment. It is against every possible sense of humanity, destroying homes. Homes are lives. What objects would one take when departing? Does home have memory? Do objects miss home? Can home be stored inside one’s body, and carried around? For maybe under another roof, the bodily memory will be recollected to construct another home.