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Early this morning was trying to pin point what or where exactly I call home.  I’m a citizen of two countries, and have travelled to plenty of places where I’ve felt at home, so my choices were numerous.

As I approached my place work I was reminded of where far too many people call home.

home

There’s usually at least four people at this corner, but now that construction has begun there they’ve been evicted, and the only sign that they’d ever been there was a pile of filthy rags and blankets.

I took this photo in Paris, (there was no one sleeping there at the moment but he or she had left plenty of evidence that they would return), but this could be anywhere.

 

 

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