My england - the inevitable homage to homeland

The heat, the food, customs and rituals, the politics and the art, the architecture the rain - none of them have fuelled me to this point. No an English journalist complaining about anti-Amercianism in his home nation have.

I'm the defender.

So England...what are you? Let's get more precise - what's my England.

...Bugger the energy (anger) ran out (that'll be that damn buddist stuff kicking in)...

It was my home, my known space. It's home to familiarity.

A false comfort.

The people I love mostly live there - this doesn't grant it any intrinsic value at all.

Perhaps I should write a homage to those I love instead...