Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.

notwithstanding how good a seed my be, it’s proper germination,growth and fruit bearing may be mutilated if not planted in a good soil

If lighthouse becomes a burning candle, flickered upon ocean’s insanity.Your sailing heart there anchors to handle the obsessed breeze towards sand dune’s vanity.

Home’s where you go when you run out of homes.

Ich hab’ noch einen Koffer in Berlin.

She might be without country, without nation, but inside her there was still a being that could exist and be free, that could simply say I am without adding a this, or a that, without...

Home is a notion that only nations of the homeless fully appreciate and only the uprooted comprehend.

I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it...

Let’s create a new memory,where our futures will fall back for strength

Maybe your country is only a place you make up in your own mind. Something you dream about and sing about. Maybe it’s not a place on the map at all, but just a story...

If ever you do go back, what is it you want of Evesham?””Do I know? […] The silence, it might be … or the stillness. To have no more running to do … to have...