Home is the physical entity, the multitude of square meters that we tred more than any other cluster of measure, where we feel comfortably enclosed by the four walls to which only we, the kings of our domain, have access. This is the propietor’s sanctuary of civic society, the temple of square where dimensions flaunt in our heads like even proportions of sense. But in the years that I came of age, I felt displaced within this space, or rather, I knew no spacial construct like home. Thoughts of home where yearnings to escape and this escape became my sense of home. A gypsy at heart, I moved from the isolated hamlet of my youth to Amsterdam, and while I had not explored the city’s terrains fully, while I kept making discoveries of locations, I felt contained and somewhat rooted. But the earth was uncovered with every revelation and the worms crawled out, finally every glance became a deja-vu, every event a repetition. So, again forward I dreamt and left for New Amsterdam of promises and expectations battling with each other to measure strength.