Chainka

Honestly, just… life. I’m a refugee from war, and the whole idea of losing home — like, actually losing it — is something I’ve lived through. And at the time, I was starting to realize that home isn’t always a place. It’s not walls or a city or an apartment. For me, it started to feel more like a person, or a moment, or even just a feeling. So yeah… that’s where it came from. It’s super personal.

I’d say Country Roads — the Lana Del Rey version. That one. It just has this sad beauty and softness, and it feels like the kind of song that wraps you in a memory. Exactly how the poem feels to me.

Okay so… I think it was fourth grade? I had to write a poem for this contest, and I didn’t even think I could write poetry. But I gave it a shot and people were actually shocked — like, “wait, what? you wrote this?” And after that, sometimes I’d write little poems with my mom, just for fun. But I never really took it that seriously — I’m usually more into prose. Still, I think that contest moment was when something clicked.

I used to be someone who’d say, “Home is this city, this apartment, this street.” But after moving, I realized it’s not always like that. For me, home is just… whatever makes me feel safe and warm and calm. Sometimes that’s my family. Sometimes it’s a book. And sometimes it’s just a person who makes me feel like I can breathe fully. I don’t think home has to be a house anymore — I think that’s a myth.

My mom. Always. She’s my biggest supporter — like, she just believes in me, no matter what I’m doing. Writing, life, everything. But if we’re talking about writers, I always say Erich Maria Remarque. He was a genius, and I don’t use that word lightly. I also really like Hemingway in a way. And then there’s Sue Miller — I remember reading The Good Mother and being just… blown away that someone could write that honestly. Also Andre Dubus — his work is quiet but so emotional.