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Home.
A boring day at work brought on some heavy mental lifting. In particular, I was thinking about my childhood home, which I inhabited from birth, left at 18, boomeranged back to at 22, and left again shortly before turning 23. My dad still lives there and it’s always odd to go back to it. Feels like I’m entering a time warp when I walk through the front door.
This house forms the backdrop of so many memories for me, both good and bad.
Anyway, my thing for today is a very rough drawing of the assemblage of glass, brick, and wood I used to call home. 
Last 5 posts by andrewjones
- Nasty. - February 21st, 2008
- Something stupid. - February 20th, 2008
- Dog Gondola. - February 19th, 2008
- St. Petersbored. - February 15th, 2008
- Bums. - February 15th, 2008
Apparently I’m following your posts. I don’t comment very often, but your posts have stirred me to do so more than once. Not to mention the apparent fact that today my verbose button is switched ON.
A couple of thoughts you might find useful/interesting:
* I once made a map of my childhood..and having lived in over 30+ countries by the time I was 8, AND moving on an average of every 3 months, it was a snarl of lines and pictures and notes.
* I have drawn floorplans of the houses I most prominently remember from my childhood. They’re curious objects, with notes such as “The place my mother told me there was no Santa Claus,” and “the hedge where I played Barbie with friends and where my favourite outfit ‘Evening Splendor’ was stolen by Teresa Uwaki”
There’s no real scale involved in either of these maps but for the scale of life through a child’s eyes. It’s a lot of fun to do and has the capacity for disturbing memories that have long been covered in dust.
See? Verbose=ON