I don’t mean in the sense of not having anywhere to live, but more the question ‘What is home?’
Is it where I live? Where my friends are? Where my family live? Is it a real place or merely a state of mind?
“Oh, won’t you please take me home!?” wails Axel, and I find myself thinking “Where exactly is that? Where is my Paradise City? Is there such a place? Does such a place have to exist? Do I need it? Does anyone?
It seems I’ve spent so long moving around, whether it be my place of work or the place I sleep when I’m not working, that ‘home’ has become a very vague concept.
I think the concept of a solid, absolute ‘home’ gives people a sense of security, a warm fuzzy blanket to wrap themselves up in to shield them from the terrors of the world. And sometimes I feel like I’m standing there, naked in the wind. Security? Stability? No. Is it a good thing? A bad thing? Who the hell knows. Not I, that’s for sure.
“Under the bludgeonings of chance,
My head is bloody, but unbowed.”