There are some of us who define our identity by a sense of place. Maybe it’s a heritage house where many generations have lived. Or a farm, worked for over a century under one name, its only changes, the modernization of machinery. Others take their roots from family and friends and not bricks and mortar. I taught an army family who had lived in 16 different places through their children’s lifetime. When I observe wildlife, I am constantly amazed by their adaptability and flexibility.

A pine martin that has taken up house under the veranda feeding off juicy squirrels, weasels and cow fat. Yet within a season, they’ll move on and set up house somewhere else. For those who lose every- thing, due to war, political persecution, fire, job or natural ageing, what makes them find stability again?

Is it material belongings, a unified family or a new building? Or is it just simply a belief in themselves as an individual?

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