Everywhere is home

Everywhere is Home

I was on a bus, watching lazy out my window. This image came to me and hit me! His quiet face, a cigarette in his hand, sitting on the pavement, under a blanket even in a sunny day. I am not sure he was happy about his own condition but that scene made me think how much we are capable of feeling somewhere as Home. The couple of bottles in front of him, as a sort of table, are so in contradiction with the place – behind a car – where it is or should be unthinkable to stop and have a rest. Love definitely this image, it makes me sad but it’s just a moment and a doubt overwhelms me. Maybe his calmness isn’t just an impression of mine, maybe he feels really freer than me, sitting on that bus…


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