Home.

I want to go home, back to my safe space, back to my comfort zone.
But what is home? Where is home?

Is it the place that has all your things, where you spend all your evenings, gazing at the sunset or the television screen, in silence and in noise, where you are the most creative and efficient, but also the loneliest and the most scared, the place which has seen you at your best and the worst, the place which embraces you in deep slumber every night.

Is it the place where your lover lives, where lie all the hugs and the kisses, all the love and affection, a safety net, where you spend many nights cuddled and muddled, where you find wine and often fine dine, where there are often fights, cries and sighs, but tickling, laughter and unbreakable ties.

Is is the place where your parents live, where you spent your entire childhood, with countless memories, worn out walls, old equipments and blankets, where the aroma of your favorite food is omnipresent, where insomnia gets cured, where hair is oiled, where laundry is done, where you roll around in laziness, with cups of tea and some gossip about family, cards and rituals, fighting with no consequence, loving with all that you’ve got.

Is it in your heart, because it is he who is not at peace, who wanders around, even though it is stationary, but still at million different places, with million different emotions, wavering, wondering, beating, existing, sometimes just merely existing, wanting and rejecting, never accepting.

I really do want to go home. I just don’t know where home is yet.

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