Home.

I can hear the church bells ringing, and the echoing voices of the foreign women next door. I am in an empty room that is slowly beginning to feel like my own. The synonymous buzz from the snores of people scattered across the house rises above the sounds of a morning. There is drops of water falling from the ceiling and into an empty beer jug in the middle of the hallway and a small feline scampers up and down in anticipation to be fed.