The fire doesn't get smaller when we share it. It gets bigger.

She didn't just invite me. She opened up her world to me.

And for just a moment, we're all part of the same journey.

Maybe I've been doing this my whole life. I translate.

I used to think that closeness meant doing as much as possible together.

Sometimes closeness isn't created by the same words, but by the same attitude.

Maybe we're not looking for the perfect event. We're just looking for people who make us feel at home.

Maybe we don't actually long for the fire. Instead, we long for the feeling of being able to sit around it together.

Maybe we're looking for our home in the wrong places. Maybe it's been waiting for us inside us all along.

Maybe we won't build a house at all. Maybe we'll slowly build a place where we can be completely ourselves.

Maybe we don't actually learn anything new from our little adventures. Maybe they just remind us of what has long since felt like home.

Perhaps peace begins precisely where we stop trying to make each other more alike.

Not because everything has suddenly been resolved, but because nothing needs to be ruled out anymore.

No one had to prove themselves first in order to belong.