I came to the realisation that I don’t really have a home. I have a house, sure. I live with my family in a building that contains bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen along with far too many toilets. But it’s not a home.
We don’t really have any permanent decorations anywhere. We have convenient items such as a TV and couches. We have things just placed as though we could quite easily up and move it. Like we’re going to move any time. Or like we don’t believe we’re going to stay at least.
We accumulate mess because we’re hoarders, and we accumulate mess because we don’t really respect the building we’re in. Maybe we don’t have the time either but I have no emotional investment in this building. It has a great location, yes. It has space, yes. But it’s not a home.
I got the homely feel visiting Jharda’s. I got the homely feel when we were at Antonio’s filming, because we took the time to look at how many personal things were there. I got the homely feel at Ryan & Toby’s.
I felt like London was more of a home when I returned from New York. But this house ain’t a home to me. It’s just where I lay my head. And that is what I gained from today.
I wonder if anyone is interested in gaining a room mate, or moving into a place somewhere.