Sometimes our own home isn’t what we thought it was. Sometimes home is many places. Sometimes home can only be found in oneself.

When you move from one place to another, from one state of self to another, and you change, and move on again, chasing infinity in the streets and beaches, in the colours and smells of new beginnings, you notice that home can sometimes be found anywhere.

Other times, it disappears…

All that exterior memento of moving and changing, following and chasing, grasping and letting go, in the end, only leads to one place. The only place you can’t escape from.

Yourself. Myself.

This is my journey Home, a journey to the Self.