place, the person, the meaning of the word. The French have no word for home. They have words for “at my place” and “in my country,” but not for “home,” which is far more ambiguous, and I can’t help but think they are on to something. For thirteen years I have been scything the tall grasses that I felt sure obscured it, gripping tightly to the handle and grasping at anything that looked the part, secretly a little desperate for another person to guide me there. And only now am I realizing that home is like anything important—it cannot be contained or circumscribed; it is within and without. It
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