Finding home

...................Wow! What a different life, returning to solitary living and a flat that brings back both good and bad memories............

I have since I got home completely destroyed my flat, broken down kitchen cupboards, violently torn out screws from walls and bathroom fittings from pipes. After deconstruction comes reconstruction, and I painted both ceilings and walls of my so-called 'natural habitat' - all by myself... Oh well, what I meant to say was that I spent the last week and a half as 'interior-decorate-zilla' and am now all out of physical umpf. Half-done is annoying, but I just can't muster anymore strentgh to finish. Completely unwarranted, my brain started working again - on its own, thinking critical theories and sour replies to Danish politics.

What is home to me now? Many thoughts and ideas, among them my beautiful friend and her son and the forthcoming celebration of their family life (a wedding), my other friend and his insightful contributions to world order, my third friend, currently visiting Venice and her vigilant encouragements to whatever project I'm involved in, my fourth friend who got herself a boyfriend, my fifth friend who will be an aunt sometime next year, my parents coming by for coffee... Actually, probably, maybe, home is now somewhere inside me where all these magnificent people have room all the time, wherever I am. The phrase 'Home is where the heart is' can for me now be turned around: The heart is where my home is... Like I missed the people here, I miss the people there, and as Yasemin told me many times it is so hard to get used to missing people. It is however part of the human condition when humans live the kind of life I live.