On calling cosmos home
Reflection for JANE
Where is the heart of your home?
Home for me is not a house, it is the cosmos. Thus, its heart is not a concrete place but a presence. Its heart is the emotion unexpectedly unearthed by a moon beam that has fallen through an open window. It is the calm of curling a page of a book from one side to the other. It is the breeze that waltzes with the red bell-shaped flowers in the garden, seducing the flame trees in a silent dance.
What elements make it that way: How does it smell/look/feel?
The presence of home smells like the dried flowers my grand-mère once kept in antique powder bowls. It sounds like bird songs that bathe the sky. It feels incorporeal—made of metamorphic matter pollinated by peregrinating stars.
Originally published in JANE, in collaboration with Annika Hein.
Imagery source: Hippolyte Baraduc, The Human Soul: Its Movements, Its Lights, and the Iconography of the Fluidic Invisible (Paris: Librairie Internationale de la Pensée Nouvelle, 1913), via Public Domain Review.
You can read more of Kathryn’s writing here.