Home is where the heart is at.

The hills, the beautiful lakes, the precious preserved parts of the island.

The red sand stains my feet as I walk through my backyard that still blooms the flowers that survived the war.

The sound of my grandma running around to make sure she served food at 12; my ears has it memorized.

It will always look like home.

Sound and taste like home.

Sri Lanka will always be home.

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