The research begins with adapting to a ‘new home.'

 

I think of my grandmother, who lived alone. Though her children loved her, she could not escape solitude. I gave her an iPhone 6, and I still remember her first Snap - a giggling, sound in the background as she filmed the floor. In that small, clumsy gesture, I saw her delight in exploring a new technology: a tiny bridge connecting her to me, to her other children, to the world.

 

Solitude is a quiet, persistent reality we navigate under capitalism. When I saw my landlord, I thought of my grandmother again, sitting alone on the same chair, waiting for my call, for the next visit. These moments shape my work: domestic space as fragile, inhabited under conditions of care, visibility, and waiting.

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Reflective fabric forms inflated manually, enacting  intermittent presence and the labour of diasporic care.