There’s no place like…

Moving: the only word to describe what I have been doing for nearly four months, in a small car full of gear, trash, books and music. What is home, anymore? I don’t know, but I can say that the act of moving– through the air, through other people’s lives, through cities, through landscapes both alien and familiar– has become a kind of home. I am holding still right now; I am homesick for movement.

A timely prompt.

 

About Oona Suzannah

Returned to California. Old habits die hard.
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