Last year on my birthday, while Flo, Karina and I lay between trees in the park (I still remember it as the first really hot day of the summer. This very special day that makes you want to eat icecream so bad that you forget that winter even exists [but it still does]) a group of musicians walked through the backyards of Paris and played a song as beautiful as they are. ( — and to imagine this makes me very happy — )
( go home, I’d like to
stumble to bed and lay beside you
until we’re even or romantically bored,
whichever comes first )
As I wondered a lot the last weeks I finally asked my friend Wikipedia and it says:
A home is a place of residence or refuge. When it refers to a building, it is usually a place in which an individual or a family can rest and store personal property. Most modern-day households contain sanitary facilities and a means of preparing food. Animals have their own homes as well, either living in the wild or in a domesticated environment. „Home“ is also used to refer to the geographical area (whether it be a suburb, town, city or country) in which a person grew up or feels they belong, or it can refer to the native habitat of a wild animal. As an alternative to the definition of „home“ as a physical locale, home may be perceived to have no physical definition—instead, home may relate instead to a mental or emotional state of refuge or comfort.
There are cultures in which members lack permanent homes, such as with nomadic people.
Maybe I was born being a nomadic but as noone noticed they kept me at the same place way too long. In the dark hours of the winter my nomadic heart whispered ‚I’ll always want to move away‘. It did that for too long and now as we, the heart and I, are moving and not standing still, the hours are as dark in the winter as they used to be and I wonder if I ever learn. For sure: I still believe that every city is my home at night. And for sure: I still believe that home is where you find me. And for sure: I still believe that this is what I want. Being found. Finding. Looking at people, looking at places looking at you and knowing (in this very moment): Everything can be true.
Maybe my nomadic heart will give my nomadic body a rest sometime.
I promise: you’ll be the first to know.