At home. Jet lag. First cup of coffee the way I want it in my own home, after two weeks of travel.
What makes it home? Probably “everything in its place” has a lot to do with it. Familiarity. It’s certainly not the things themselves: the furnishings are entirely disposable, occupying space without any particular aesthetics.
But it’s home.
Would a rented space feel this way? Would a rented, furnished place feel like home? Does time make it feel like home?
The people, sure. But that’s not sufficient, because she was with me the whole trip and while that was comforting it did not make a hotel room a home.
What makes a physical space a home?
This is important because of the long-held dream of getting a space to live somewhere for a long-term temporary stay, maybe a year at most. Maybe (but probably not) where we were in Manhattan or Milan. “Probably not” because aesthetics. There are other places that would be preferable in Italy, other places I would rather be in the USA.
Start with here. I can make it happen here. All my theories about how I would do it, I can do here.
So it’s interesting. This is home, but what does home mean? I want to long-term camp out somewhere, and I can camp out at home.
And I shall start where I am, with what I have.
Here’s the idea. I can work from anywhere? Well, there are great coffee joints to work from, here in my home town. Go there. I would join a gym wherever I went. Great. I know exactly how I’d do that here. Now the interesting part. What are my theories for making new friends in new places? Do that here as if I know nothing and no one.
JFC my hometown is immortalized in one of those chill/downtempo albums. Found it last night on Spotify on the plane. Why go to Dubai, Ibiza, etc. etc. when it’s here all along?