STORIES ACROSS OCEANS: THE MEANING OF 'HOME'

My most vivid childhood memories are by the water. It has always been a place I have felt truly free. An escape from everything.  

Existing. Underneath the muffled, crackling sounds as waves carry above your head. Getting tossed, time and time again by a powerful vortex. Just another fraction between layers of sediment, fluid and froth. Gasping for breathe. Surrounded by extraordinary planetary forces. I always remember my Father's hand reaching through each of the layers. Reaching out for my hand and beckoning to swim further out where the waves were larger. Where the ocean was deeper. My feet would kick, and my head would barely stay at the surface. Yet, in time, the human body begins to recognise the rhythm. It mimics every movement. It seeks a balance.