Homeland

An utopian community fell apart

Fragments of the past and of their former lives are rusting in corners. Many of them left before and made their way back to the city: others remained and held on to their choices, floating like driftwood in time, hiding in fantasies and a life that became fictional.

They flee their entrapment by constructing a surrogate existence, drawing a theatre-play with no ending.

Over the years they constructed an inner universe in a warehouse, a place that holds them waiting, with tracks and trains that never leave. The escape is possible, from now on they have a fictional refuge. A small doorway is their only entrance to this other conscious, a timeless nirvana, a prolonged nostalgia, where they blissfully regret that life is seeping away. They climb and pass through space and time, into their common state of mind, avoiding the pain of the outside, persisting their peaceful lethargy.

Until it numbs them out and the outside world is calling them to face the light, to take the decision to walk right back to where it all has started.

Homeland — 2
Hans Van den Broeck