This is where I live, the place I call home everyday. But what is "home" though? Home is what makes you feel protected, the space you know you belong to. At home you don't feel like a foreigner, a guest, one that everybody knows is just passing by. At home you live your life, and you know it's the right one.After few years abroad, I realize I can't call any place "home". Home is not NY, nor Italy: being here is not me yet, and being there is not me anymore.
Here I am discovering, there I am missing.
Here I can't tolerate business people in flip flops, there I am astonished by the impetuous desire of looking cool.
In a city of 9 million people, where nobody is really at home, can I be so pretentious to think I am the only one having troubles? Of course not. I keep in the game, aware that tomorrow I could not be at home in any other house of the world.
1 comment:
I like that. A lot. You got the same feeling I have. The feeling of not belonging to anywhere, yet belonging a bit to every place I've been.I think home is where you are right now, hic et nunc, no matter the past and the future. Just the present.
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