“He carries home in the way he walks: an elegant, loose strut. He wears home on his skin in the form of attar, a delicious perfume that makes me dream of Somali coastlines, places where children play football amidst colonial ruins, and young men like Korfa flee in darkness on boats to Yemen and Kenya, determined never to look back.” LoveHomeSelf LoveGayEqualityGay RightsRefugees Book:Fairytales for Lost Children Source: Fairytales for Lost Children
“Home is in my hair, my lips, my arms, my thighs, my feet and my hands. I am my own home. And when I wake up crying in the morning, thinking of how lonely I am, I pinch my skin, tug at my hair, remind myself that I am alive. Remind myself to step outside and greet the morning. Remind myself that it’s all about forward motion. It’s all about change. It’s all about that elusive state. Freedom.” ThinkingStatesHomeHandsMy OwnStepsMorningAliveFeetCryHairArmsLonelySkinsWake UpLipsElusiveThighsI Am AliveForward Motion Author:Diriye Osman
