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"I'm going home," she said. "Where's home to you?" he asked. "My house?" she said, confused, and laughed a little. "Home isn't a place," he paused, "it's a colour, a song, a scent, a feeling, a person, that first sip of good whisky, but it's not a place."

October 24, 2020

Orsi-cafe
"I'm going home," she said. "Where's home to you?" he asked. "My house?" she said, confused, and laughed a little. "Home isn't a place," he paused, "it's a colour, a song, a scent, a feeling, a person, that first sip of good whisky, but it's not a place."

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