In a real home there’s a place for talking to yourself alone. There’s a place for your visiting friend and for her children who climb all over your sofa while eating pudding. There’s a place for stuffing envelopes for the campaign or settling in and reading Gibbon from first volume to last. There’s a place to sit and look at a tree or a leaf and to think uninterrupted thoughts about that tree or that leaf. In short, a real home supports a person’s individual power and meaning.



