?

Oh, I see. I'm afraid I haven't heard of it.

Where my heart is

You beat me to it :P.

Home is wherever you get near the door and then your bladder starts to feel like it's gonna explode.

hahaha rather accurate ^

An impenetrable conclave of immeasurable distractions.

Often. :)

Somewhere with reasonably high speed internet access. Extra home when Miri is present! <3

the smell of mango incense, hay and fresh air ; v ;

Gosh that sounds lovely! <3

:(

My home is Serbia...

My car I suppose, because I really feel the most at peace behind the wheel.

Or worse, the mill where I work because most of my time is spent there that I've practically moved in. (Seeing that I cook, work, do my laundry, homework/read, and shower, and bullshit with the guys while on the clock it may be said it's more home than my house).

Id say where you feel safe and loved, but im not sure. Most people walk the edge ready to fall off so home is kind of an abstract thought i personally feel rarely exists. Your house is the box you build for yourself that has your nest thats what im sure of

Yes. :)

Collected fragments from my recurring dreams.

My escape and safezone.

Also the thing that has my coffee...

Still searching.

comfy bed

everything else can go

my home is my bed

I've never had a home before.
I've been homeless in a literal, physical sense many years of my life, and even with a roof over my head I'm really not sure what home could be, to me.
Right now, my best idea of home is a calm Saturday with some ice tea watching TV shows with my boyfriend.

Where you feel safe, calm, secure, and you can rest easy at night, knowing it's yours.
I haven't found mine, but I won't stop until I do.

Finnland:P

But yep,home is where heart is Hehe

Where the heart is?
But hearts are bound in the hearts of others.

Perhaps the company of beloved people?
Regardless, this journal lead me to a potential friend :D.

I see. You are right. :)
The company, or perhaps the knowledge of their presence, physical or emotional? I suppose it can be indirect.

More practical and less poetic, or maybe even mor so? My house is my childhood home. We moved here to this prefab brand new box shortly after I started high school. I remember when this land was a corn field, driving by when I was really small living nearby. This is a place I always could remember fondly. My parents split and this was my fathers house. As soon as I was old enough to choose I moved in with him. I met my now husband as a blind date when he rang the front door bell. Starting a family a bit early this was the first home for my oldest two children before we moved out on our own into the world of crummy apartments and dodgy landlords. We moved out of state and back, crashed here again for a few months in transition.. Then off again. Then after my father passed away, it became our home once again. No more roaming. This is where we started, always came back to and belonged. My old room is now my daughters. Before that it was my grandmothers, before that my brothers but first it was my room.

I have two homes in two different countries, and I cannot decide which I love the most and which is my real home...

Wherever I am welcome, I will seek refuge at.