Qissa-1

Back home, the curious selection of cutlery in which tea gets served has always been, for me, a subject of great intrigue. Very seldom does one find themselves holding a proper tea cup; paper cups are the usual, and on rare occasions, you might spot someone drinking straight out of the electric kettle (which does resemble an oversized coffee mug, to be fair).

How does one talk of 'home'?


In my hunt for a definition, I keep falling back to these peculiarities- on an assortment of landscapes, soundscapes and their associated quirks, rather than the situated physical space of a conventional suburban, single-family home and its sub-ingredients.


Perhaps the lucid interval of a dreamless medicinal slumber- the comforting fiction of normalcy, the rapid, unmappable erosion of memory and cognition. The memorial excess of a keepsake journal- bus tickets to first dates, conference schedules, and lengthy hand-written notes- the necessary, logical instability of figurative language-


-the content of truth,


and yet


- a rhetoric of error.


Home- caving in to errancy, perhaps?

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