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What Is Home

What is home if not how I feel with the windows down, hair blowing madly around my face, and sun in my eyes?

What is home if not the sight of familiar red bricks?

What is home if not the way I feel now, in the air, on the way to another coast, a different town, a place I'm still getting to know?

What is home if not so ambiguous it starts to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time?

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Britton Perelman