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When I’m away, home permeates my deepest thoughts in fleeting spurts; while in Naples, talking to others, in front of a stony sea.  Like a kangaroo, I carry home in a little pouch at the front. Wherever I go.  I find my home intriguing, painful and beautiful. Both at the same time. I feel a constant need to write a story about my home…Some plunge in the reality of their home without ever leaving while others seek to run away from the reality of their home. I choose to lie somewhere in between.

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