I read an article a little while back about Tuvalu, an island nation that is slowly losing ground to the ocean (literally), disappearing as time passes, or so it seems. It made me wonder how much of my identity is linked to places, temporal geographies from my experience. Nairobi, a monolith in my self perception, has changed since I was last there.
Yet even so, it remains, in my memory, home. But what happens when home disappears?
Perhaps for those natives of Tuvalu who pass on the memory of a place as it once was, it will be like a demolished house or neighborhood; a somewhat melancholy nostalgia, a reminder that like places, we as people and cultures change. Despite appearances and sentiments, home is really just a stop along the way.