"Home is where the heart belongs"
But if home really is where the heart belongs then for many in this era home becomes "homes."
It is not possible to live in a place for an extent and not grow attached to it in some ways. attachment comes in many forms. be it the fondness of a location that holds a sparkle of genius, a moment of understanding, of realization, of appreciation; or a place that holds moments when one feels loved or falls in love. even the spot where one's heart breaks into two, or three, or more, carries the impact of home. for it is when the heart breaks that it understands where it wants to belong.
be it welcoming arms. or even be it a space you had to push your way into and claim yours. be it routines and repetitions that verge on dullness, but in moments of unrest in foreign places carry the sense of security and familiarity only time can build. be it street corners. be it a type of music that frequents a room. be it the smell. the sense of you filling into a space.
The heart belongs to the people. and It is not always possible to gather everyone you love into the same corner. People travel, people move away. you travel. You move away. and when you part, home is once again broken into pieces. of course over time you find other things to fill in the chunk that had chipped off, but it will never fit the same way again. home is always fragmented.
home. it is hard to point out where home is. here or back there. or back when.
you carry space and air. Travel to a new place. live in an unfamiliar location. the unfamiliarity will become familiar over time. not complete, but enough to create a crust around your skin. enough to seep into your pores. enough for the ones you left behind to figure out that you no longer smell or taste the same.
can your heart feel just one place, just one person? you wonder. demand it and perhaps you will rip.
