On a scale of 0 (free to come and go) to 1 (physically or psychologically unable to cross the threshold), where do you land?
Because a home should never become a horizon. homebound index
It’s the rainy Sunday in pajamas, the writer on a deadline, the parent recovering from a week of chaos. Here, home is a harbor. The index reads 0.2—voluntary, temporary, restorative. On a scale of 0 (free to come
The isn't a single number. It’s a personal and societal gauge of how the threshold of one’s home transforms from a place of rest into a boundary of constraint. Here, home is a harbor
We began tracking this index unconsciously during the pandemic. Suddenly, billions of people experienced the same metric. Zoom calls became data points. Grocery delivery slots became economic indicators. The number of days without touching soil or seeing a new face became the truest measure of our time.
We have metrics for everything else: the Dow Jones for economic health, the UV index for atmospheric danger, the Gini coefficient for inequality. But what measures the slow gravity of staying put?
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