I have been living in my own house for a week now.
I have been nomading for the last 5 years, and my brain can’t understand what it means – my house. It is in small things like singing as loud as I want and making a mess I don’t need to clean. Today we were marking a piece of land I am responsible for. I feel so much love for this land, very irrational. I don’t feel much love for the house yet; I’m at the level of gratitude to it yet. I sleep exceptionally well.
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