The word “Home” and its performative meaning are unknown to me. They do not represent what should be obvious and familiar. Growing up, I’ve lived in a conservative violent ethnical house and experienced a geographical-familial immigration of the body, as opposed to the "stability" of its chronic pain. Like myself, my endometrium migrates and proliferate outside of my uterus, choosing for itself new niches to call home. Now, in times of enforced "domestic seclusion", I realize more about this physical-bodily stage: my phenotypic-biological body has bequeathed my uterus the ability to wander just as I survived my forced nomadism. Thus, it’s familiar to me, but at the same time feels foreign, an alienated parasite.

I choose to leave a soundscape of my post “pelvic seizures” by poetically and audially associating it with a mechanism of the disease – the burrowing of a new space while desecrating the "integrity" of un original home; Infiltrating between organs and the space engulfing them; annihilating necessary boundaries. The intra-uterine existence as a home or "uterine fantasies", deceptively appears friendly, intimate, a symbol of femininity, but precisely because of that it produces the oppressive estrangement, the panic and horror, the anxiety of that which is known.