Home is where somebody notices when you are no longer there.
It was good to walk into a library again; it smelled like home.
A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.
I live in my own little world. But its ok, they know me here.
A home filled with nothing but yourself. It's heavy, that lightness. It's crushing, that emptiness.
We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by going back there.
Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.
For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home.
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