Feeling at Home by Maggie Scratch

 

 

 

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Merci beaucoup a Rocio, grandmother, Nais, daughter and Kiliana granddaughter

It isn’t every day that people take me into their home, but when they take me into their hearts, that’s feeling at home.

Feeling wanted, feeling loved, feeling like I belong.

I’ve been a foreigner half my life, I’ve learned to live outside the klan, to find my own tribe’s drum.

But what—here I am!

Here I go?

Again? 

Yep!

Couldn’t deny the opportunity to live in a new country.

France!

People are people all over the world.

It’s the heart that counts.

Like Keb Mo says,

“It’s becoming clear I can feel it down in my soul.

I know that I am you and you are me.”

I like this way to live.

It’s a good way to be.

 

 

“Ringing Out Love” by Maggie Scratch

It’s Easter time again. Sure comes around fast, doesn’t it? Where were you last time this year? I wasn’t here in Saint-Alban. I never would have imagined last year I would be where I am now. It never entered my head. How would I know I would be in these farmlands with pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago? Pay attention I tell myself now. Pay attention to your life as it is. The secrets are there in the obvious. Who knows where you will be in one year? Surrounded by love hopefully!

 

Peace by Maggie Scratch

I’m in a sleepy old town in La Lozére region of France. Saint-Alban-sur-Limagnole. I arrived like a can of coca cola. It’s not easy to get the city-fizz out of my brains, it’s been running through my veins for thirty-two years. I tried to post my road movies leaving Barcelona, but from sleepy little Saint-Alban my videos don’t go through.

I’m surrounded by green.

I have time.

I go for walks.  I spend hours alone.

I live simply, in silence, I can write.  I can think!

“Thinking is a luxury!” A philosopher once told me.chemin-de-st-jaques

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