Sunday, October 9, 2011
I live in Auckland. I am 'home' as I type. My things are here, my dogs only know this place as home. When I head for this place, I say I am going home.
But I also say I am going home when I am headed here, to Mum and Dad's. Who knows for how much longer; it's an extensive property and not matter how fit my parents are, it won't be a home destination forever. Just thinking about that makes me sad.
And then there's this place in the photos. Other than my family home above, it's really the only house that's felt like home to me. Whilst I don't think I will ever live in it again, it's hard to let go of. Hence, I still own it. And the city it's in feels so much like home that I take it personally when a bloody great ship grounds itself out from the coast, potentially sullying my 'home'.