Since I moved from Spain to New York a few months ago, I felt that I had lost my home and I would have to build one by myself.

I wanted to explore my new neighborhood and meet the people that lived in my area. I started walking around it at night when everyone was supposed to be at home because I wanted to observe them. During those night walks, I was captivated by the inside of the huge and beautiful houses that surrounded my area.

For many nights, I waited there, alone in the dark, watching the activities that my neighbors did in the comfort of their homes.

What would be my family doing at that same moment? What would be happening at my real home?

I was invaded with curiosity and through the observation, I started feeling connected to those people. I saw my family reflected on them, I imagined what would have been like to live there, to share their space, to be them.

It felt just as if I was invited to look but not to enter. Do any of these people know what blinds were invented for?

I guess they didn’t expect someone to be staring from the outside. I was a stranger passing by, I wasn’t supposed to look. Had they seen me, they would have felt invaded.

As I returned to my apartment with a knot in the stomach, I came to realize that, even though I had a house, I was still homeless.

El día que me mudé de España a Nueva York, hace unos meses, me di cuenta de que había dejado mi hogar muy atrás y que tendría que construír uno nuevo yo misma.

Quise explorar mi vecindario y conocer a la gente que vivía en mi area. Comencé a pasear por mi zona de noche, cuando todo el mundo debería estar en casa, por qué quería observarles. Durante esos paseos, me cautivaron los interiores de las enormes casas que me rodeaban.

Durante muchas noches esperé, sola en la oscuridad, viendo las actividades que mis vecinos llevaban a cabo en la comodidad de sus hogares.

¿Que estaría haciendo mi familia en ese mismo momento? ¿Qué estaría pasando en mi verdadera casa?

Me invadió la curiosidad y a través de mi contemplación, empecé a sentirme conectada a ellos. Veía a mi familia reflejada en ellos y me imaginé como habría sido vivir ahí, compartir su espacio, ser ellos.

Me sentía como si estuviera invitada a mirar, pero no a entrar. ¿Es que acaso esta gente no sabe para que se inventaron las persianas?

Supongo que no se imaginaban que alguien fuera a estar mirando desde el exterior. Yo era una extraña que pasaba por ahí, se suponía que no debía mirar. Si me hubieran visto, se hubieran sentido invadidos.

Según volvía a mi apartamento, con un nudo en el estómago, me di cuenta de que, aun que tenia una casa, no tenía un hogar.