The word home is so ambiguous. Its a construct around a place where you reside and feel pleasure, I presume. It isn’t a constant, yet it gives the illusion of never moving. Home is a place where one can be oneself; where one can feel safe; where one feels loved. Is it truly so? Or have we built this powerful, all encompassing, calming feeling of being home? I truly have. I feel at ease when I am within four walls that is filled with positivity, energy, compassion, empathy and passion. These four walls have transported along with me to many cities. But they have also been constant. In the sense, the people I would host within these walls haven’t drastically changed.
Home is not just a house. I believe I create an illusion of home around people, ideas, places, animals and in the larger sense, my emotions. This could turn out to be very destructive or might work in my favour. I am yet to see how having a shape shifting, space moving home suits me.