Our life has reached a high level of sophistication nowadays. We find it hard to recognise (but we often don't want to) the simple, artless things of our life. Although our public life has become a clutter where we risk losing ourselves and our identity in a senseless cult of image and appearence, our private life is the only shelter we can count on, where we can find three elements: rest from our turbulent life, affection from our family and above all cover from the indiscretions and the assiduous judgement of other people. What is comparable to the satisfaction of the man who find himself master of his space, once back in home!
Today I couldn't enter my house. I had forgotten my keys. Waiting five hours under the Januar's chill, until my parents would have come back to home, I realized what a beautiful and fantastic thing a house is, and having experienced an infinitesimal fraction of what a homeless person spend everyday, I understood the intense desire and indispensable need of a roof over my head. Because where you can find a place to spend the night otherwise? I didn't find it.
posted by Ayura P. Gottberg @ 11:29 AM
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