Sometimes you go out of town, look at the foreign landscape...and you call it with names, most probably acting in self-defense...you don't wanna be there, you wanna go home. Home is good. That place is bad. Childish, yet understandable attitude. But there's something you're missing here. Because THAT place, actually IS home, for somebody. And you've just spitted on it.
What could you say about a nomad?
Not much, really...no future, no past...just the desert, and whatever there is behind the next dune. And maybe...just maybe...out there there's a nomad in search of a companion.
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