To be is to occupy space. Walls divide space from space. Walls take space and turn it into place. Place is humanised space.
A place is somewhere to put things. A space is a place with things in it. "Wherever I hang my hat, that's my home". Things are not human. Things are other. What I do to the world, I do by means of things.
Today I move out of one place and into another. I collect the keys, sign my name on various documents I say that I've read, and I arrive. My place.
|Your place or mine?|
The place is empty. Some bare necessities have been provided: an oven, electricity, running water. There are no curtains in the windows. The walls are almost white. Accumulated post for the previous occupant, no longer at this address, please return to sender. They have gone to a better place. Round at their place.
Furniture begins to arrive. It is as though I am already losing something. Space becomes place.
An unbearable stillness. A king of infinite space. Life is here, I think, somewhere.