Someone once told me that he always kept his room spot clean because he never felt at home, a castaway in America.  When I look around and see how messy my room is, I wonder: is it because I feel so at home here?

Today, I watched a video clip about a 22-year-old Korean boy who ran away from his orphanage when he was five and has lived alone all of these years.  He sold small merchandise on the streets and slept in stairwells or public toilets.

What is home?

I recently finished an autobiographical book by an ex-CIA officer.  At the tender age of 16, he left his home in rural Georgia to journey into the greater world.  His parents always supported his pursuits.

In The Crazed, by Ha Jin, the professor who arguably either loses or frees his mind after a stroke urged the protagonist, his expecting son-in-law, to rescue his only daughter from the degenerate China by fleeing the country.  He saw hope in the spacious lands of Canada.

What is it about certain places that draw certain people, or draw a lot of people?


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