What makes a place home?...
László Kutas (Praha, Czech Republic)
Exploring Prague a few years ago, I had the pleasure of visiting a gallery located just off to the side on one of many streets...
I got lost in the world of Alexander Onishenko, and enjoyed the sculptures of Laszlo Kutas. Apparently Prague was home to Onishenko for sometime and for many reasons.
Today, I find myself thinking of home... What is home? What makes one place home and the other not? Do we call a place home because we've been told "this is home" or because something innate in us, some intangible thing inside of us tells us it is. Can you make a place home without somebody else in it? Without a pet? Without items, souvernirs, memorabilia, etc... reminders of wonderful times past; or maybe even more poignant, wonderful people lost. Tell me, what makes a place home?