Shelter

Home has always been a complicated word for me. It’s not a place, not really. It’s moments. The sound of a friend’s voice late at night. The smell of garlic on the stove. A dog curled up near my feet. I used to chase stability in external things: houses, jobs, routines. But those things shift. What I’ve learned is that shelter can be built in small, deliberate ways. It’s a text from someone who remembers how I take my coffee. It’s a room I’ve made quiet and safe. It’s knowing I can be alone without being lonely. Maybe home isn’t where you’re from. Maybe it’s where you feel okay not having all the answers.

• Home
• Warmth
• Comfort