Two years ago around this time, I wrote about my desire to keep moving, and the beginning of my detachment from the London I had once considered home…
“Home is where the heart is.”
I have always struggled with this phrase. It sounds simple enough but actually, I’m not sure it means anything more than “Home is where you like to sleep”, or “Home is where the person you like, likes to sleep”; but that sounds a bit like the mantra of a stalker, so maybe it’s not quite as simple as that.
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