Tag Archives: home
A coffee shop full of isolated men on laptops is a suggestion that men more than women cannot stand being home alone.
My true home is not language; it is rupture and alienation, reiteration and dislocation.
Chen Kuan-Hsing is anxiously at home in Taiwan; I am anxiously not-home in the United States.
Home is no place, least of all within yourself.
It is not at all ironic that Anna May Wong and Sessue Hayakawa departed for Europe in protest of Hollywood racism.
But all who climbed their way out of the cave have learned that there is no place like home.
Home is a four letter word.
Try as I might to imagine that I have a home, the first of every month I am reminded that I’m just renting.
Looking up, I see the bright moon; looking down, I yearn for a home.