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After 14 months of living in the diaspora, I had no choice but to go back to Yemen and leave my partner behind.  We were stateless, but I had A LOT of dreams that I wanted to achieve in what is called ‘my city’. I wanted to be part of the construction even if the war was not yet over. I had the dream to establish a café where I could have a small corner as a stage and have my plays and poetry performed. Unfortunately, once I arrived, I realized that my dreams were just an illusion. Thus, I had to flee again a few months later, after a massive attack where my father was injured. I had the chance to choose this time, either to raise my kids in such an environment or to flee with them in search of a new home. With the help of friends, I was able to start a new life in Istanbul. I was living out of the town, where hundreds of skyscrapers occupy the space. Living on the 15th floor far away from any life but the lights and construction work I was watching from my balcony each day. I had to be creative. Living in the diaspora this time without my partner and with my three kids limited my mobility, and I had to find a way to explore the new surroundings, make sense of the new reality, and capture the space and place.

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