Where is home? Where is this place we long for being at, belonging, going or coming back to? The place where you feel most confortable and at ease. There where you have your things, your precious possessions, your furniture, clothes, objects, your pets, your people. Home includes tastes, smells, feelings, memories, sensations.

I think I don’t have a home, never had or I just haven’t found it yet. Maybe I will never find it. And then, again, life is so short and we can’t carry any of our belongings when we exit it. Maybe home is not a place but a recognition. Perhaps “home” is just a short trip, on a bumpy, adventurous road and it will only last for a few moments. 

I should probably just think less and enjoy the ride. 


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