If ever there was want of home, I have it. It calls to me over the miles upon miles of ocean waves. It beckons me with sweet siren song, driving me mad. I consider for a moment swimming home, but my brain pipes in, "Wait to fly. It's much faster."
Though it's only briefly been my home, it is home still to me. Home sweet home, as the saying goes. And home I want to be.
Farewell, sunny Africa. You've been good to me. Now I'm off to where the buffalo roam, and the wheat fields stretch out like a sea.
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