Home is a strange concept for me.

Most people need to return to their house to feel ”home”. Most people have a place where they feel grounded. I never had roots, I don’t feel any attachment to a certain place. I often got sorry looks when I tried to explain my rootlessness.

I don’t feel sorry for myself. ”Home” is wherever I put my toothbrush down.

Home is here. For now.

The flight was long, and as usual, customs were a nightmare. For some reason, no matter how light I travel, custom agents always seem to find something to investigate. This time, my light bag was the problem. Apparently, it was a bit suspicious that I didn’t bring enough clothing to fill a large walk-in.

But it is over now, and the hour long train ride gave me more than enough time to put the annoyance behind me.

Unpacking…