(Sofiya Ballin)
I would definitely say my favorite piece of furniture, I’ve thought about it long and hard, and nothing compares to my bed. (Laughs) For obvious reasons, right, I feel like if my bed could talk people would learn so much about me. My bed has seen me when I’m exhausted, when I’m at my most vulnerable, sometimes even when I’m at my most productive—I work a lot sometimes in my bed—when I’m at my most romantic, when I’m feeling my sexiest, and when I’m not feeling my best, so when I’m sick… So definitely my bed because I have leaned on it so much, and it has never (laughs) turned me away. It’s always been there to support me literally. So definitely my bed, and I thank God that beds can’t talk

(David P. Stevens)
This is my favorite piece of furniture, this dusty old chair, right. But in the morning, I sit here with my cup of tea, and look out the window, and look at Philly, and think. And I pray in this chair, and really talk to the Lord and try to figure out the next steps of my life, all in this little dusty chair

(Kwasi Agbottah)
My favorite piece of furniture, is a chair. Having been homeless, it’s very healing for me to come into where ever we are, whether it’s an apartment (laughs), or a house, and to be able to sit together as a family, even if it’s my kids sitting on my lap or something like that. A chair is really important to me

(Ekemini Uwan)
My favorite piece of furniture, you know it’s a toss up, honestly between I would say my couch and the kitchen table because both spaces are what I consider communal spaces, spaces where life springs forth, right. Where you, you invite guests, and they come, or guests who are family, and you come and you talk, and you share your heart, you share your meal, you share your life together. So, I would say the kitchen table, or the couch, either one, because of the life-giving exchange that happens between two people, or four people, or a whole family

Chorus (Alexi Paraschos; Tomeka Carroll)
Where we live and we love and where we play (we play)
The scars and the marks of our pain
Down on our knees is where we pray (we pray)
Living life, all of our days on this furniture
All this furniture (all this furniture)

Verse 1 (Timothy Welbeck)
We all look for a place for me
A space to be
Where we take a seat, trace our being
Wait and see
The amazing scenes
In our favorite scenes
We could start with
Us within arm’s length on a park bench—our eyes sparkling
And the spark sent from our kiss
Set my soul on fire like a match to a parchment
Or I could turn to
Meeting God on a church pew
And once there how I learned to
See how the Most High works through
The stained glass of broken temples
It was a blurred view
Chorus (Alexi Paraschos; Tomeka Carroll)
Where we live and we love and where we play (we play)
The scars and the marks of our pain
Down on our knees is where we pray (we pray)
Living life, all of our days on this furniture
All this furniture (all this furniture)

Verse 2 (Timothy Welbeck)
I once slept on the floor
Until I the time I assured I could afford more
And for sure learned to adore shelter that’s yours in a space lacking décor
Flash forward
I can’t ignore a chair is still a chair when no one is sitting there
And a house is a home where love is shared
Our places are there
So whether we start with a park bench
Or an apartment
A church pew with a perched view
Our places are there even if they are few
And there will always be a place for you

Chorus (Alexi Paraschos; Tomeka Carroll)
Where we live and we love and where we play (we play)
The scars and the marks of our pain
Down on our knees is where we pray (we pray)
Living life, all of our days on this furniture
All this furniture (all this furniture)
Epilogue (Emalohi Iruobe)
My favorite piece of furniture is Somi. Somi is a brown antique armchair mimicking a throne with embroidered arms and a motif of life. In another world Somi is a playground, a story, a home. Somi’s arms and legs mimic feet. She hugs me and sucks me in after a long day, my heavy head on its steady arm is uplifted after a day of self-doubt. Surely Somi doesn’t how long I sat in traffic, but she knew me since Dad bought her in 1989, when I was only six. Then our relationship was complicated. Her polished feet often stuck out their legs and tripped me, and her arms were always there to knock me back with gentleness on days I ran clumsily towards the door at the sound of my mom’s car arriving home. If you ask Somi, she would say that love is patient and kind, and that is why she has lasted this long in this household through three moves, three cities, one country. And if you ask me, I would say love is firm and forever. And Somi is love