Home

This post is called home. It could easily be called victory or relief or finally, too. It’s been a hard battle. Endless forms, fees, couches and bags. But maybe it’s all worth it because I have a place to stumble back into at 11:53 pm, a place where I know the location of all my belongings, a place where I’m not afraid to intrude. My room is mine and it feels like home and it looks like me.

Home has been an ambiguous idea to me for a long time. Is it a feeling, a place, a person? I’ve hopped around a lot and suffered serious restlessness a lot. ‘Home’ became a sort of mythical idea that I made sure everyone knew I did not relate to. ‘Home’ became tainted by the romance of mystery; I was pretty sure didn’t exist anymore.

I still don’t know if it is something in particular, or entirely subjective. I just know I spend a lot of time falling in love with places instead of falling in love with people. Maybe home is something in common between a place and a person.

At least I now have a place to run to without wanting to escape. My humble little home is a bit of me and I am not ready to give up on my romance with Waterloo and the city of London.

 

Sunday mornings should be full of flowers

 

what better place for The Wall than the wall?

xox

Nelli