In my own attempts of creating familiarity, I find myself seeking comfort in place over anything else. But what I have come to realise is that by doing so, I have made my own world very small. The initial contact that is made with a place is free of memory, letting you project your fantasies and emotions onto it. What becomes the place you stumbled upon when you were on a walk or somewhere that you finally noticed when you looked up for a moment becomes embedded into your life routine. It sounds stupid but this place was a wall for me. The flodden wall is divided in different areas of Edinburgh’s old town. Rapidly explained; it was built to surround the city after the battle of flodden to prevent the english from attacking again but they never did, so it was eventually torn down with only a few remaining spots of the wall existing. One of these spots is near the ECA, going down to grassmarket with a postcard view of the castle. This became my spot, even though it’s not very secret or special. I made it a point to visit it regularly and take people I loved to it. When it was raining or I was crying, I would sit there and somehow it made me feel better. But there came a day when I took the wrong person and I haven’t really stepped foot near the wall since. It became this tainted space. Rather than bringing me comfort, it made me feel exposed – reliving a vulnerable moment with a human I would rather forget. I mourned my wall that I had loved so much. What can be said is that although my heart ached for that comfort, I didn’t really miss it. I have an entire city full of memories – though they are not all good, at least they’re mine.