I can hear the birds sing, the waves bilowing white towards the shore. I stand on the dock of the ship that flows in perfect cadence as the waters heave to and fro. I contemplated the place we're heading with nostalgic eyes, remembering the photographic memories of my childhood spent on the cliffs of the island.
It was before life had gone awry that the memories stopped. I still remember those days when I would wake up to the sounds of crowing roosters and light sound of the breeze ricocheting inside my room when mother would open the windows.
The place was familiar for being the dwelling of my most treasured memories. Indeed it had been my home. Yet in the depths of my soul, my mind, and heart, it ain't home no more.
-Home is a place, is it not?
