what is home, where is home, who is home?
we live in these bodies, and yet when we leave our homes,
we think that we could escape who we are,
but we carry our shells, our flesh, our skins with us,
and we are still the same body –
longing for roots, for connections, for a soil
that could nurture our stories,
one root to another

This short story is about the homes I have found, and the missing flesh on my chest.
Read While we are here.