The Lazy Eye

 It is always a little challenging to rationalize the archival peril in recovering the domestic scene of a late Thursday lunch- tiger prawns cooked in coconut milk, bowlfuls of steamed rice and a detectable raw mango pudding sourced from a generous neighbor- to, in other words, fall back on the generative function of a memory-system grafted on shifting home-city geographies to narrativize and subsequently revoke what I suppose is a spatial amnesia about the sense of being 'at-home.' The affordances offered by these long-disbanded homescapes open up a rogue space of archivisation- of objects rarely behaving appropriately in the operational space of the archive, evading arbitrary categorizations, slipping ever-so-often into a lover's songbook, into the last verse of the predawn azaan wafting across the empty fairground. Occasioning the turbulent rupture of self-history and self-mythology. Self- reference , even.  Not unlike its truant dweller, my 'provisional' homelan