We were the Nomads of the East.
I always thought that Earth was the loneliest place in the universe. The roads we took on, all the trees had gone from their roots to the tiniest twigs, the burning asphalt in the summer, the piercing cold of the water in the river everytime we took a sip, the blazing sun although illuminating thousands of iridescent glows could never lift up the shadows within each of our heart.
Say, I had always been on the edge of my non-existent-wooden chair in regard to know the world before us. And what was beyond us. Since I was born I had wanted to set my feet to every inch of the land, leaving traces of wherever I was. But, then, was not that how were living our lives? Wandering her and there, not belonging anywhere.
Until it was later, I found out that if there should be one single thing my heart so desperately desired to obtain, it was a place called home.