Where is my home?
It’s not where I was born (that was in a hospital), it’s not where I grew up (that is my past). It isn’t where my mother language is spoken (that’s my family) nor where my stuff is stored up (a couple of cellars here and there).
My home is not where my heart is (inside my chest ??? Oh come on!) and it’s not so sweet... but it’s so comfy!
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