Sometimes to be at home is like a nightmare by Stephen King.
Where's your home, then?" asked the Snork Maiden."Nowhere" said Snufkin a little sadly, "or everywhere. It depends on how you look at it.""Haven't you got a mother?" asked Moomintroll, looking very sorry for him."I don't know," said Snufkin. "They tell me I was found in a basket.""Like Moses," said Sniff."I like the story about Moses," said the Snork. "But I think his mother could have found a better way of saving him, don't you? The crocodiles might have eaten him up.""They nearly ate us up," said Sniff.
Comet in Moominland
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Where's your home, then?" asked the Snork Maiden."Nowhere" said Snufkin a little sadly, "or everywhere. It depends on how you look at it.""Haven't you got a mother?" asked Moomintroll, looking very sorry for him."I don't know," said Snufkin. "They tell me I was found in a basket.""Like Moses," said Sniff."I like the story about Moses," said the Snork. "But I think his mother could have found a better way of saving him, don't you? The crocodiles might have eaten him up.""They nearly ate us up," said Sniff.
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Maybe this isn't home, nor ever was- maybe home is where I have to go tonight. Home is the place where when you go there, you have to finally face the thing in the dark.
Although terrifying, the evil ghost will probably pose no real danger to you or your family. On the other hand, if you have a demonic infestation, your entire household is in very real danger. A demonic entity will not usually confront you or induce you to flee the home. Because, unlike the evil ghost, the demon does not actually want you to leave. On the contrary, it wants you to stick around so it can destroy your life and sully your soul from the inside.
Do we take less pride in the possession of our home because its walls were built by some unknown carpenter, its tapestries woven by some unknown weaver on a far Oriental shore, in some antique time? No. We show our home to our friends with the pride as if it were our home, which it is. Why then should we take less pride when reading a book written by some long-dead author? Is it not our book just as much, or even more so, than theirs? So the landowner says, __ook at my beautiful home! Isn__ it fine?_ And not, __ook at the home so-and-so has built._ Thus we shouldn__ cry, __ook what so-and-so has written. What a genius so-and-so is!_ But rather, __ook at what I have read! Am I not a genius? Have I not invented these pages? The walls of this universe, did I not build? The souls of these characters, did I not weave?
_ожно лежа__ на мо___ и _мо__е__, как _е_е_ вода. _ли бега__, или поб_оди__ по боло__ в к_а_н__ _апожка_, или же _ве_н_____ кл_бо_ком и _л__а__, как дожд_ ____и_ по к___е. ____ __а__ливой о_ен_ легко.
Here. There. Everywhere. Somewhere. Home.