Rain, no red mud, and bright lights ...

Currently ... crashing in the London airport, sharing a couch with Kami.
Last night ... crashed with new friends in Uganda, watching the US election.

I am heading home.

But every time I leave a place, I am faced with that ever daunting question:

What is home?

I don't think I know anymore. Or, more specifically, I don't think I have a set location. Maybe home is at the dead center of those pods of communities. The more alive the communities, the more appealing that home is.

I don't know if Uganda is home, or honestly if it even feels like home. All I know is that I have found some of the most beautiful and radiant people there, both Ugandan and not. And I am sad to be leaving a newfound set of friends, leaving them halfway across the world.

But ready to be coming home to the set of friends I have grown so fond of. And I am so in love with.

Hmm.

London is an intriguing place. Kami and I jumped on the Underground, found out it was Guy Fawkes day, and within an hour were sitting front row for the production of "Chicago". I like the feel of this city. A lot. And I think I would like it even more if I wasn't coming from a place such as Uganda, where everything here, although not unusual, seems new and strange. Like beautiful bookstores and stylish clothes ..

Boston for a few hours tomorrow, on to Los Angeles. Sleeping the night in the airport there, most likely, and heading back to San Diego on a train in the morning.

Oh, exploration! I do love your strange call.
k.