A home is when your house matches you, when it's a consequence of you and not only a couple of walls with a bed and lamp. Is when your bed or your couch is a continuation of your legs and the fridge the extention of your stomach, when the floor and your feet are the same thing, when your cat is just another piece of your arm as it curls to sleep.
My home is not a place, the flowers by my bed are not flowers, my cat is not an animal, my books are not font on paper, the songs that play in my radio are not just words and guitars and drums.
My home is the place that breaths at my pace. It was always like that, even before, I just breath at a different pace now.
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