I often find myself between a place of home vs stepping outside, travelling, and the discomfort that comes with it.  As I stayed and worked for a family in Rome during quarantine surrounded by Italian, I navigated this intersection: both trying to make a home there living in discomfort and the unknown.  My window outside became a sign of hope, and it made me realize the impact that windows-light, and something to look towards- has on the soul. What are we seeing out of, and how does it manufacture our world and our individual view? What happens when we start to fill in the world that we can’t see?