HOME is an open road. It's coffee in the morning, the sun stretching across the porch. HOME remembers your birthday. It tells you to move on, to come back. HOME reminds you what you want, what you wanted, what you lost. It is always moving, but sometimes it is standing still. HOME is a stranger asking if you feel okay, if you need a hand. It's a bus ticket across the country. A plane ticket somewhere new. It's your room after a long day, the familiarity of hotel pillows and key cards. It's lying together on the couch. HOME can be nowhere and everywhere. It can be scary or comforting. HOME can be your country voting against you, anger breaking like a cloud. It can be hope. New relationships. Old habits. It can be something you haven't found yet, or something you find hard to let go. HOME doesn't have to be sweet.
Deadline: 20 August 2017