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The following story was written by University of Minnesota architecture
student Sri Sumatri as part of her final research project for the spring
seminar, Archaeologies of HOUS-[E, ES, ING], which was offered
in preparation for the summer studio.
The seminar
was designed to encourage students to break down their preconceptions
about cultural, spatial, and material manifestations of hous-[e, es,
ing]. A series of public forums and community roundtable discussions
with a range of people from neighborhood activists to recent immigrants
were core parts of the course.
In these
conversations, questions such as How does your home reflect your values?
What do you think the difference is between "house" and "home"?
and Is housing a right or a privelege? were discussed as each participant
added their story.
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I
have a dream; I had my own house. It was the house where I grew up.
I use the whole spaces in each room. It felt like I'm in my own castle.
Then, suddenly I hear the alarm clock goes off and I'm forced to go
back to the real world. I stretch my body and try to fully wake up in
the townhouse that I rented with my brother. The warmth sunshine coming
though the blinds doesn't seem to help it. I have to get up, said my
brain. Heading for the bathroom, I heard my brother's waking up in his
big bedroom downstairs. I walk down to the kitchen and make my breakfast,
just some cereals, and get ready to face the day. Oh, how I missed home
so much, even though both my sister and I shared room, the farthest
bedroom from the center of the house. I remember my dad's voice waking
me up every morning when I was in primary school, or even sometime when
I overslept, the smell of fried rice and the noise of my mom cooking
in the kitchen. I tiptoe out of my bedroom without provoking my sister's
peaceful sleep and race my brother into the big bathroom way in the
front of the house. Of course, he always gets there first since his
bedroom, that he doesn't have to share, is closer to that favorite bathroom.
So I use the smaller one in the back. Then, I have my delicious, yet
plentiful breakfast in the dining room, the center of the house. I can
see my dad's heading to the front of the house into the living room,
sits undisturbed in his 'office', reading newspaper while having his
coffee. Mom is walking back and forth the kitchen and the dining room,
doing some cleaning before she goes to the market. I prepare myself
for school, and wait for the school bus, while my dad is getting ready
for work. Walking just a couple of meters, I'm out of the house and
head to school; as well as nowadays, just a couple of steps and I'm
out of my apartment, my secondary 'castle'.
--Sri Sumantri
--Architecture Student, University of
Minnesota
What is your dream house?
What is your favorite thing about the place you live? |