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Changing perspective

It is funny how now that I’m away, I’ve started to wonder about home. To me, home is not one place, city, or country (not yet, maybe? 😉 ). It has not been for a long time.

Home is
… hearing my sister’s voice
… the smell of my flat
… driving my car along a well-knoenwn route and singing along to the music, loudly
… the way my mum is standing in the door waving happily whenever I come home and park my car in front of the house
… a cat on my feet when I sleep
… hearing friends tell stories and seeing the familiar places they’re talking about and we know in my head
… the way my dad hugs me
… sharing good wine on my balcony with a friend and enjoying the astonishing view, no words neededdav
… cycling along the river and stopping for a swim whenever I feel like it
… seeing the sun set on the lake which gives me peace
… hearing and using the English language.dav

.. an armchair in a bookshop, and the smell of books

… calling my Italian friend and reminiscing silly childhood adventures
… coming into work and knowing who to sit next to in the break and who to talk shop with

… the welcoming presence in some cities

Author: carasmelody

daydreamer, hopelessly hopeful, I love the power of words, I love poems, words are soulfood

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