Rues of Roo

It’s a strange thing, to come home, to go home, to see home. Differently.

There are a lot of messed up people in this world. Not because of relationships, not because of jobs, not because of a distinct lack of purpose in their general life. But because they just don’t know where home is.

Imagine finishing a day’s work and returning to a place you don’t recognise. To a place, empty, devoid of humanity. With no one to sit next to on the sofa, no one to gaze at the television, to make snide remarks with.

Imagine not really knowing how long, how far, how much you’re meant to live in one place before you might move to the next.

Imagine making a place you think is home only to suddenly remember somewhere else is home, or is it home, or is it not? Was it? Is this? Where is it? What? Here? Where? There? But… there? How? Could it be? Should I? Maybe? No? Yes…?

It kills you. Slowly. Just when you thought you could forget about it, and think it didn’t matter. It jumps out of the box, and sticks a stake through that weak, sensitive heart of yours.

But at least we’re not sheep. Eh?

Baa. Eat British Lamb