Hiraeth

The term hiraeth, rooted in Welsh, embodies a unique type of nostalgia — a yearning not for a specific place but for a time, a feeling, and a life that can no longer be revisited.

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As I prepared to leave the sleepy little village I had called home for most of my life, I found myself dwelling on the past rather than looking forward to the future. It quickly became clear that I wasn’t just saying goodbye to my childhood home, but to my childhood itself.

Over time, I realised that my “home” is not confined to the four walls where I grew up. My home is the sunsets over the park where I spent countless hours playing. It’s the seemingly insignificant conversations that meant everything at the time. It’s the soulmates who turned into strangers. Home is the complex combination of small, fleeting moments that shaped me into the person I am today. These photos don’t just show my home — they evoke the scents, sounds, and memories that define it.

I can always visit the sleepy little village I grew up in, but I cannot return home. Time will not stop just because I am not present, and I cannot expect everything to be the same and waiting for me when I return. There's a strange surrealness in seeing your childhood all around you but having it feel so unfamiliar, like you don’t quite belong anymore.

Now that I have moved away, I find that I do miss my home — but it is a bittersweet kind of homesickness, as the home I long for no longer exists.

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