Houses inhabited by cities

Houses inhabited by cities

Ilaf Al-Rish

Our homes are us, in one way or another, they are our eloquent expression of what we would like the world to be. Our homes are not walls, ceilings, locks, and doors; they are not bricks and stones. The rooms of our homes are our memories, our faces, our voices, and our families. They are the theaters of our lives, our private and intimate worlds. None of us is aware of the fate of his life, just as we are not aware of the fate of his home. We do not know who will inherit it after a while, who will sell it, and who will buy it. The only inevitable and cognizable thing about a home is its memory. This is what draws me in, what fascinates me and arouses my curiosity in every house I enter: the memory of homes and houses. The stories of the people who passed through them, the way they were shaped, built, and constructed, the civilizations and arts that influenced them, the miniatures of the daily life of housewives, and the rituals of families. We live in homes we love, we spend time in them and retreat to their warm side, we miss them after a long day outside and after a long journey, we miss them so much that the act of returning home after an absence is the most monotonous and intimate act at the same time, but I think. After my life has been spread across four houses in my country and dozens of houses around the world, when I travel I think. When can I say about a house. That it has become a home? O happy reader, traveler on board words in books, I invite you to join me on the journey. This book is a journey into the aesthetics of the houses that inhabit cities.