When wood learns to suffer, and to dream as people do, it shall henceforth be called Home.
Few things define class and identity more than the house you grew up in. And for those whose childhood home symbolizes poverty, abuse, and neglect, the memory of a house can evoke a burden of shame it's former inhabitants never break free of. In this unusual take on a memoir, the story of one family’s roots are told through two narrative perspectives. First, from the youngest observer’s, told in the non-linear, often surreal, even unreliable fashion that traumatic memories often manifest. And second, from the the house itself, the reliable narrator whose perspective limited by the scope of his physical view.
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