It’s 2 a.m., and I’m wide awake in Stuttgart, staring at the ceiling with a flight waiting for me later today. My mind circles around a single word—home. What does it even mean? Where does it belong?
I’m flying to Tehran, and going to places I once called home. But now, the word feels fragile, like it’s lost its shape. Can I still call them home? Or has the meaning slipped away?
And then the city I wake up in every day. Stuttgart. Is this home? Can I call it home? The questions loop like a déjà vu, leaving me stranded in the space between memories and belonging.
It’s 2:15 a.m. now. Restlessness wins, and I leave the bed to sit at my desk. I let Apparat’s music fill the quiet as I stare at a blank page. Slowly, I type out the title: "Beyond Four Walls: Where and What is Home."
The thoughts flow, raw and unfiltered, until they find their place on an Instagram post—a small attempt to make sense of the question that won’t let me sleep.
To start, I should mention that I see home through two lenses: one personal and one professional. With this in mind, here, I try to explore the concept through the prism of literature and my own interpretations.
To truly answer “What is home?”, we first need to untangle what’s the difference between a House and a Home.
Part I
What defines home? Is it just a physical space?
The title of this note is borrowed from a quote from Lois L. Kaufman: “It’s not the roof and the four walls that make a home, but the space in between.” This resonates deeply with Gaston Bachelard’s The Poetics of Space (1957). For Bachelard, a home isn’t just a physical structure; it’s a repository of dreams, memories, and imagination. He famously stated, “All really inhabited space bears the essence of the notion of home.” This suggests that home is less about geography or architecture and more about how we experience and inhabit a place. His assertion invites us to consider that any space we genuinely live in whether a childhood attic, a temporary apartment, or even a favorite café becomes imbued with the emotional and symbolic layers of home. When we engage with a place, leaving traces of ourselves in it whether through mundane routines or cherished moments, it begins to resonate with the intimacy of home. Bacherlard challenges the idea of home as fixed or singular. If inhabited space bears the essence of home, then home is fluid, capable of following us wherever we truly live and feel alive.
To linger on that I suggest looking at the Argentinian artist, Leandro Erlich's installation “Pulled by the Roots” in Karlsruhe, 2015. The work, features a house seemingly uprooted from the earth. On the one hand, it is a striking commentary on the idea of home, displacement, and the fragility of our connection to the physical place. On the other hand, the visible roots of the house metaphorically tie home to identity and history. It suggests that even when a home is physically uprooted, its essence—its connection to a specific past—remains. Erlich challenges the viewer to consider: Is home a fixed location, or does it move with us, carried in our memories and identities?
The installation opens up universal questions: What anchors us to a place? What does it mean to lose or rebuild a home? Is home merely a physical structure, or is it rooted in relationships, memories, and personal meaning? Erlich invites us to see home as both fragile and resilient, grounded yet adaptable. It’s a poignant commentary on the evolving and multifaceted nature of home in contemporary life.
It’s 4:24 a.m. now, and the night feels endless. Ryan Teague’s music drifts softly through the room, its melodies matching the stillness of the hour. I’m still at my desk, behind my laptop. The words come slowly, as if searching for clarity in the quiet, but I keep writing, compelled by the need to untangle the meaning of home. The next question arises: Can home be defined by its functions? Is it the shelter it provides, the warmth it offers, or the sense of safety it promises? Or is it something deeper, something intangible that transcends its physical or practical roles?
In The Idea of a Home: A Kind of Space, Mary Douglas questions whether “home” can be reduced to its functions—providing shelter, storage, or a place to sleep. Instead, she argues that home is a deeply personal space. A space infused with meaning, shaped by memories, relationships, and a sense of belonging. Home resists being boxed into a checklist of tasks; rather, it is defined by the lived experience within its walls. A kitchen is not just for cooking, it becomes the heart of conversations and traditions. A living room is not just for sitting, it holds the echoes of laughter and shared stories. “Home starts by bringing some space under control,” she writes. The act of "bringing space under control" can manifest through decoration, organization, or simply the routines that make a place feel familiar. Home is an act of creation, a space where we impose order, security, and
identity. A house or apartment becomes a home when we establish our presence and rituals within it. Douglas mentions “Home is the realization of ideas”. This realization of ideas makes home deeply personal, even philosophical. For some, it might be a minimalist sanctuary; for others, it might be a picture of their loved ones on a wall, or the artifacts of their travels. The realization lies in the home as an externalization of the self—a physical manifestation of inner thoughts and priorities.
Emanuele Coccia in Philosophy of the Home: Domestic Space and Happiness also critiques the way homes have been reduced to functionalist design devoid of deeper moral and cultural imagination. He mentions “the vast majority of architects believe that the spatial composition of a few rectangles that have each been given some vital purpose: sleep for the bedroom, entertainment for the sitting room, eating for the kitchen.”. He argues that homes should transcend physical enclosures to become structures that foster mutual initiation between lives. A home is not just a physical space but a moral and material artifact that helps us articulate our “I” and achieve forms of happiness and transformation. He believes that home is inherently relational: it involves both inhabiting the external world and letting that world shape us in return. This process of “domesticating others and being domesticated” is at the heart of living.
Part II
It’s 8:03 a.m. now. The coffee is ready, a small attempt to fight off the exhaustion of a sleepless night. Alva Noto’s ambient music plays softly in the background as I try to organize my thoughts. My suitcase sits half-packed in the corner, but I can’t stop writing.
Here, I find myself drawn to a crucial distinction—the ideas of the transient and the permanent. It’s where Douglas’ and Coccia’s perspectives diverge, offering contrasting views on the essence of home.
Douglas compares homes to hotels to highlight their differences. A home evolves over time, shaped by its inhabitants’ needs and memories, fostering a sense of continuity. A hotel, by contrast, is a transient, impersonal space designed for temporary occupancy. It offers convenience and comfort but lacks the emotional and cultural weight of a home. While a hotel might mimic aspects of a home, it cannot replicate its permanence or the personal connections that define it. Therefore, the distinction lies in the permanence and authenticity of dwelling and identity, while a hotel is a space of passage. This contrast reflects broader themes of place, belonging, and the human need for rootedness.
Where Coccia diverges is in his embrace of impermanence and movement, proposing that homes should be as interchangeable as clothes, rejecting traditional notions of permanence and ownership. He mentions “In the end, the home of the future ought to resemble a sort of extension and
radicalization of the logic embodied in Airbnb. We ought to change home every season, just as we need to do with our clothing.”. In The Inevitable Kevin Kelly also discusses the shift from ownership to accessibility as a defining feature of the digital age. Instead of valuing physical ownership of products, individuals increasingly prioritize access to services and experiences, facilitated by technology. Both Kelly and Coccia highlight how technology reorients our relationship with the world. Kelly frames this shift as a broader societal transition toward a service-based economy, while Coccia emphasizes its implications for identity, intimacy, and belonging.
Both Coccia and Douglas believe a home evolves over time and is shaped by its inhabitants’ needs, preferences, and daily rituals. Douglas believes the transient nature of a hotel stops it from becoming a home. In contrast, Coccia suggests the ephemeral and transient nature of spaces might help to react to the domestication of the spaces. As our lifestyles have changed in unprecedented ways, we now domesticate our homes differently. With increased mobility and more frequent travel than ever before, we articulate our sense of self ‘I’ more quickly and through diverse mediums. In this sense, the idea of a home can lose its traditional connection to a fixed space and the personal connections that once defined it.
It’s 9:15 a.m., and Radio Deev is playing in the background. My sister calls, her voice cutting through my focus. “What are you doing? You need to leave for the airport. Have you even packed yet?” she asks. She’s right, of course.
Part III
Three days later... It’s 11:33 a.m. Two sleepless nights followed by one restful day have left me shaken and a little jetlagged. I’ve arrived in Iran, in the north, sitting in a café near the sea. The sound of waves lingers faintly in the background as I listen to NTS Radio and sip on my coffee. It’s time to pick up where I left off and start writing again.
As I sit here, taking in the calm of this coastal setting, I’m reminded of something crucial: the way we inhabit spaces. It’s not just about being in a place—it’s about how we dwell there, how we live in a home. Understanding this distinction is key to unraveling what home truly means. In 1951, Martin Heidegger delivered his lecture Building Dwelling Thinking (Bauen Wohnen Denken) at Darmstadt University, later published in 1954. To begin with, by looking at the title, he uses neither any comma nor any connection words in between words Bauen Wohnen Denken. By that, he intentionally blurs the differentiation between these three words. Heidegger intertwines building, dwelling, and thinking, emphasizing their inseparability. He redefines the idea of dwelling, moving beyond its conventional association with shelter or mere habitation.
He raised two questions there, “What is it to dwell?” and “How does building belong to dwelling?”. For him, dwelling isn’t merely inhabiting a structure—it’s a profound way of being in the world. It encompasses how humans engage meaningfully with the spaces they inhabit, shaping their existence and forging connections with people, places, and time. Far from being a static condition, dwelling reflects our dynamic interaction with space and our ability to imbue it with cultural, social, and temporal significance. This act of inhabiting unites past, present, and future, revealing dwelling as a central and universal aspect of human existence. “If we are capable of dwelling, only then can we build,” he asserts. Heidegger challenges the assumption that building precedes inhabiting. Instead, he argues that meaningful building arises from an understanding of dwelling, which involves living in harmony with the spaces we create. Dwelling connects us to time, place, and culture, revealing the human need to linger meaningfully in the world. Heidegger’s reversal of logic emphasizes that constructing spaces is not simply a technical activity but a reflection of how we live, connect, and find belonging in the world.
Part IV
In 2024, what does it mean to dwell in a home? Social media and Artificial Intelligence have fundamentally altered our relationship with domestic spaces. Social media expands the concept of home into a digital, communal, and global realm. They function as “distorted utopian images” of domesticity, offering users a space to stage and narrate their lives. These digital homes mimic physical ones in their ability to reflect and construct identity, yet they introduce a significant paradox: they are both intimate and performative. By reflecting and shaping identities, these digital spaces erase traditional boundaries of belonging, blurring the lines between public and private. This challenges traditional geographies of home, inviting us to reconceptualize intimacy, belonging, and identity on a global scale.
Historically, “home” was a fire in a cave or forest—a space of safety and protection. Over time, it became a fireplace in a house, then a television-dominated living room, and now, with smartphones, a digital extension of ourselves. Social media expands home into a communal, planetary space. It offers connection but also paradoxically questions privacy, intimacy, and the very concept of “I.”
Today, our phones may feel like our homes—in the size of a planet, extensions of our bodies and identities. But as we perform our lives online, the question lingers: Are these machines our homes, or are we theirs?
Part V
Now, two days later, it’s 9:23 a.m. I’m sitting on a terrace in the mountains. The sun is shining brightly, and snow blankets the peaks around me. It’s peaceful here, and as I take it all in, I find myself trying to summarize everything briefly.
As I reflect on everything, it becomes clear: home is not just about walls, geography, or even functionality. It’s much more than that. Home is a dynamic interplay of memory, identity, and belonging—a space where all these elements converge to create something deeply personal and ever-evolving. From Bachelard’s poetic essence of inhabited spaces to Heidegger’s philosophy of dwelling as being, the concept of home transcends physicality. Whether fixed or transient, personal or performative, a home reflects how we inhabit and shape the world and vice versa. Home exists in the tension between permanence and transience. For some, it is deeply rooted in identity and memory, a space shaped by continuity. For others, it thrives in impermanence, adapting to modern mobility and fluid living.
In today’s era of digital homes and evolving identities, the meaning of home continues to expand, urging us to redefine its role in our lives. Digital tools have further redefined the home, transforming it into a planetary, perfomative space. Social media and smartphones extend our sense of belonging beyond physical walls, offering both connection and paradox: intimacy eroded by constant exposure. In this digital age, the line between dwelling in a place and existing in a virtual realm grows ever thinner, challenging us to reconsider what—and where—home truly is.
Afterword: This reflection is far from complete and could go on endlessly. Home can be examined through countless lenses—hygiene, gender, infrastructure, or even the smallest of details. But every exploration has to begin somewhere, and this is where I chose to start.
References
Bachelard, G. (1957). The Poetics of Space. Douglas, M. (1991) The Idea of a Home: A Kind of Space. Coccia, E. (2024) Philosophy of the Home: Domestic Space and Happiness. Heidegger, M. (1954). Bauen Wohnen Denken (Building Dwelling Thinking). Kelly, K. (2016). The Inevitable: Understanding the 12 Technological Forces That Will Shape Our Future. Lefebvre, H. (1991). The Production of Space. Tuan, Y.-F. (1977). Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience. De Certeau, M. (1984). The Practice of Everyday Life. Erlich, L. Pulled by the Roots, Art Installation, Karlsruhe, 2015.