On Home, Locality & Identity

Home is a feeling, warm like the Sun

Elaine C.
Curious

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Photo by Jack Finnigan on Unsplash

Home is a feeling, warm like the Sun

Inside everyone needs a safe place to run

Run to the morning, faster than the Sun

Someone is there waiting, yes, she’s the one

- Home is a Feeling by Ride

The saying goes, ‘home is a feeling, not a place’, but what if it’s both?

London is not where I grew up, but it’s where I feel I was made. It’s where I found refuge, where the version of myself I always reached for finally had the chance to bloom. It’s where I became myself in a sense I hadn’t felt before. It’s that version of me that exists, mostly, today and the one I take forward with me to every subsequent place I have lived.

Being asked where I’m from, as a white westerner, is not a problematic question for me. Over my years of living in Australia, my accent has morphed, imbued with an Aussie twang, but when my British accent asserts its dominance, I’m always a little delighted when someone picks up on it and asks me, ‘where are you from?’

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