In the work Mississippi, I explored the community that I can no longer call my home. Born there, grew up there, had access to people and places and knew where to go, but it was not a comfortable place to be. Racial, political and economic divisions exist.
There is a pigeon that sings to me each morning through the fireplace next to my bed. When it rains, I hear the water dripping onto the stone hearth. My window looks out of the rampart-style stonework on the third floor towards the sea. I feel a long way from my ground floor flat in London.