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Mi casa no es SU casa
Ni es MI casa tampoco, ni mi hogar
Home is said to be where our mothers are
But what if your mother never felt like home?
What if what you thought
was home
wasn’t really Home?
I thought home was London, I felt it was, when I was away..
También pensaba que era Sada, mi casa verde del Tarabelo, the home I helped build.

I began to feel as though
Alomejor..
Home was merely, just,
a feeling
not a
location, or a place, or the soil beneath mis
pies
Home could be the people you surround
yourself with
The feeling you get with someone, can feel like
Home.

Home was me, within me, myself, the embodied moving home,
The one place I leave and always come back to
De esta casa no se escapa
And it’s asking me to come back.

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