I have always been trying to find the true meaning of the word “home”. It was something I never got to know. I always knew it wasn’t the place where my family lives, or where I lived in. I always knew it was something outside those walls, yet unknown, a place that was calling me because I needed it.
The years pass by, I change this home, and go to another place where my life turns upside down. And still it never felt secure or peaceful, it was a place pushing me out to the world to experience this feeling of belonging.
One day I find that life surprises me and carries me to a whole different city that doesn’t know my stories, where I know no one and no one knows me. I was sitting in a bus carrying me from the airport to the hotel with my eyes attached to the window, from which I could see that city that didn’t promise me any insecurities and worries. And only then, only during that bus ride, I knew what it really felt like to be home: it is not a place you’re used to be in even if it’s outside the walls of your house, it’s just that place where you feel secure for the first time and in a complete peace with your existence, and being grateful for once for the gift of life. Home is where you could feel that clean air getting into your lungs, it’s where you do not know the streets and you’re free to explore, free from all rules.
And unfortunately, it’s a feeling that some people never feel and when they do it goes away so fast, only to get back to those places that they’re tied to and try to make a living out of them.