Arriving in Brixton after long hours of travelling, first greeted by beggars at the tube station.
The feeling you know you are at home is when you first smile when you arrive on a Thursday evening and you hear the trumpet solo outside the legendary local pub.
Cold was shaving any part of my skin exposed to the air.
Got inside the house and it seemed even colder than outside.
I am feeling well. At ease.
Home is the place you can exist and when you go out of the house you feel you own the place and the place owns you.
When you long to go to the butchers to buy meat and wish happy new year.
When you go to the clothes shop, the owner remembers you and says: "Tme flies, where have you been?"
When you come back and feel inspired for another positive post, despite your low heamatocrit and vitamin d defficiency. Depression can kiss my ass today.
So, there you go, any place can become your home and it's up to you.
I am a dreamer and so much is possible.
Looking forward to the new adventures of 2017.
Truthfully and with all my brains and heart.
P.S. When I was on vcation, I had started writing a post about how I feel like a double agent, don't know what to call home and my needs are different depending on where I am. But, as I realised, I do have the same needs anywhere, it's just the independence and the freedom to choose my own path that makes me feel more myself.
