"What"s happening?"
"You"re going home," my co-walker said.
"Where"s home?"
"Where you belong," my co-walker said.
"I don"t belong anywhere," I said.
"Everyone belongs somewhere," my co-walker told me. "You just have to find that place. I will guide you."
The granite was friendly, warm and enduring, as constant as a home should be. I slid into it, merging as my flesh petrified and my mind focussed on my past of solitariness and isolation. I recalled the orphanage of dozens of children, of comings and goings, with different faces every few weeks and no constant. The staff had been formal but friendly, the food and accommodation adequate. Was that the home where I belonged?
Eventually, an elderly couple had taken me in. Decent enough people, they cared for me with sympathy but without
