I am searching for a home—not of brick and timber, but of belonging. A place where my being might unfold freely and my soul finally come to rest. I am not like others; I carry a different rhythm, an unusual light. And so I wonder what kind of home might cradle such difference.

Perhaps it is only a modest, tidy room, filled with soft silence and golden morning light.
Perhaps it is a small, hidden house embraced by trees and solitude.
Perhaps it is nowhere fixed, but scattered across rivers, fields, and skies—everywhere that nature whispers welcome.
Or maybe, just maybe… it lives quietly in the warmth of someone’s heart.

©️ Beatriz Esmer