Home, what is home? It’s something I didn’t give much thought to. I’ve been away from my parents since high school. I always felt like a drifter no matter where I was. I always had the feeling I was gonna leave one day. A third of my life has passed, I still haven’t found the right place.
Last week I moved to a new apartment, I had to do some cleaning, decide the layout and organize my stuff. When I finished the work, I felt tired and relaxing, and home, a little. I don’t know for sure that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life in this city, definitely not in this temporary apartment though, but this time, I have got to choose how to spend it.
So what is home? I do not claim I have the answer. As far as I’m concerned, it’s not something to be found, but something to be built. And there’s no place like home.

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