Wanderings of the Abodeless

"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses,
Yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your
Teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest tossed,
To me; I lift my lamp, beside, the golden door!"

- Excerpted and adapted from Emma Lazarus's poem of the Statue of Liberty, America.

Telcontar is a worn traveller, that read the excerpt and envisioned a place that was not his homeland, but feels as intimate to himself as that homeplace of his; a place, where, he knew he'd feel safe and comfortable, though not exactly, home. To him, it worked just fine, for his so-called "home" was lost to him for a long time. He was one of those people that called themselves "the Abodeless" - the people whom had never thought of a place as a real home.

He had been to deserts, savannahs, forests, mountains of untold heights, oceans of width immeasurable by himself; by today's technologies, those places he visited could have been charted as a whole map.

He was always alone. It wasn't that he didn't attract felllow Abodeless to offer going together with him; its just that he found company trying and he preferred to be alone. And it was just as well - there had been circumstances where he'd could've survived only by himself.

Now, he had an impulse to go aganist the Abodeless'es rule of going without any direction - he wanted to see where the place described in the poem looks like. He was disapointed. Turns out, his fate was probably to wander abodeless forever.

Upon further reflection, he realised that he was, in fact, at home - his wanderings to found a place to belong has become a place to belong. With a small sile at the notion, he turned his back and walked straight to the horizon, his figure shrinking out of sight.