For me it is a safe place, a refuge, where I have my environment and where I can be with myself ... but there is never a single.
seems strange but Albano house and home in San Cesareo not consider them "mine", but simply consider home ... The concept of "home" I do not like (for now). I find it restrictive and coercive ... In the end the home is what's inside me, what a gift to a place when I stopped there for a while 'time. I'm not wedded to the concept home as the usual four walls. For me it is the "feel at home" that counts. As if it were a "state of being '. It is an environment where I feel good, Dovo I can relax and feel in harmony with the place.
Which is not to say that the site should have to force a certain type of energy, but simply that I have to choose the place to be "home" at a given time. For example if you are happy go to a place that is definitely different than where I go if I'm sad and I want to live out what I'm going through. In the end I find that the place where I am is just an amplifier. Sometimes I feel there is a root that comes in every place where I feel at home ...
Besides, that's why you decide to move, no? I no longer know what they consider "my home", I just do not feel, and then I find another that I can feel good, comfortable. And that is what many people in search of the house is difficult, because each has a different ideal of "home".
What made me the heart beat was the house in Abruzzo, but not for the imaginary fourth wall or because we would all go together or because I had a futon (futon *____* ah. ..). Simply because I would have given support to live in that place, and the mountains beyond, the forests of the Gran Sasso, the countryside, the village, the smell of wood burning in the streets of Paganica stony, thin air, snow in winter ... Are those feelings that I lived to be "home", not the building. Maybe I should have called this place my home, because it reflects the feelings I was looking for me at that moment and made them live, not because it was defined as "beautiful" or "isolated".
E 'for what I called the house like that of Albano and San Cesareo, because both I capitate. The place where I sleep is indifferent, as if I'm inside, I can find my home in a flower that I see on the street, in a race on the beach, in the smile of a friend. From this point of view, the horses are my home. Singing is my home.
do not know if I can explain my idea well ... I just know that that's why I like to lose and change direction constantly. For a while my house was the exit of the tunnel on the railway from Marino in Castel Gandolfo, when the lake opened wide on the left, always different and always like itself, but now I know what has changed, no longer go on the train to find the place that allows me to stare in front of that show. is also why I often change the road, because it is important to be surprised by what you fall in love with you live. If you know a memory location, you know just what to expect and not look around more, that's when you lose your real home.
