How to explore where you live

Destination: Your Own Home

These are the last few steps of a five-day, intercontinental journey which began at dawn in a remote desert and finishes, this evening, in a windswept city. I anticipate the moment of completion, that point when a journey finally ends. But I will be disappointed, initially by circumstance and then by the logic of travel.

At first, I thought I was walking into my surprise "welcome home" celebration (nice!) but my arrival has simply coincided with that time of the year when people hold parties. No one warned me about the event though they knew I was coming home today. Arriving to a house full of people does not feel like coming home - that part of the journey will have wait. Once the party is over and everyone has gone the moment of completion will, nonetheless, remains incomplete.

The sensation of return straddles two ends of a journey and is defined by two questions: where have I been and how is this place home? Return is that moment when I feel like I am in two places at once, and neither feels convincingly real.

I the kitchen, I take out my pen. These habitual notes act as signposts to my locations: as I write in a small, blue notebook (A6, wide-lined, hardcover, sturdy), I begin to see where I am. We are squashed together between the shapes and feelings of chairs, recessed ceiling lights, painted doors (white gloss)