I rifugi cedono

Shelters speak of the concept of 'home' in the widest possible psychological sense.
Home' can be a physical place; a set of social and emotional relationships; or a mental place, such as a memory, an imaginary representation or a cultural/normative heritage.  This space, whether real or metaphysical, is inevitably destined to undergo the transformative attacks of externality or, sometimes, to collapse on the intrinsic fragilities of its foundations.
My recent experience, as an artist, but mainly as a third-millennium human, is a constant redefinition of the concept of 'home' taught to me as a child: my greatest 'home', understood as Nature, my planet, is now sick, and suffers the consequences of our lack of respect, retaliating against us. Instead, on the idea of 'home', as a place and as a family clan, my journey has taught me that it is a constructible and not a given concept; that we are free to make 'home' whatever, and whomever, we feel is ours.
All that remains, then, is a skeleton of the original perception of our 'belonging' to something: the belief in the existence of a bond is, and remains, a belief, and this makes it, by its very nature, subject to change.
One of the most terrible fears is the absence of bonds or protections that fence us off from the unknown and foreign. However, the moment we embrace the transience of our roots we realise how unnecessary they are for survival. We are liberз to build what we desire, we are liberз also not to build: we therefore remain looking at the spectre of our belonging as if it were only a memory, being submerged.