A Quote by V V Brown

When I go home, the first thing I do is wash the dishes. It feels real and it feels like home and it's humbling, it's something you don't do when you're living in a hotel, everyone cleaning up after you.
I think the biggest thing is clean as you go. Wash all your knives, cutting boards, dishes, when you are done cooking, not look at a sink full of dishes after you are done. Cleaning as you go helps keep away cross contamination and you avoid having food borne bacteria.
Anything that feels familiar and comfortable [is home]. It's wherever I feel safe and safest. Most of the time, that's just Barbados. It's warm, it's beautiful, it's the beach, it's my family, it's the food, it's the music. Everything feels familiar, feels right and feels safe. So, Barbados is home for me.
So I'm more at home with my backpack, sleeping in a hotel room or on a bus or on an airplane, than I am necessarily on a bed. It's weird being here. It feels like I'm standing next to my real life.
If St. Andrews is the home of golf, I think Pebble Beach feels like the home of American golf, like the home of championship golf. It has a real sense of history here.
Initially, I was scared of living alone in a big city like Mumbai, which is nothing like Bangalore. I'm more comfortable now; it feels like a home away from home.
England is my home. London is my home. New York feels like, if I have to spend a year living in an unfamiliar city, this is a pretty lovely one to spend a year in, but I will be going home at the end of it, certainly.
There is something that happens when we leave the land and enter the ocean. It's unexpected, the environment feels strangely welcoming. The ocean almost feels like... home.
Things down here in Hawaii are similar to Alabama. We go to church every Sunday. People are treated like family there just like here. There are many similarities there, and you want to be somewhere that feels like home, and that's what Alabama feels like.
Even with all of its changing, Brooklyn's architecture still feels like home, the language feels like home. It's changing so quickly that it's surprising. It's surprising still, when someone looks kind of askance to see me walking towards them.
It feels amazing to be back on set. It feels like home, even though the territory is a little bit unfamiliar because it's a new show, it's a new character, but once you get in the groove and you start to settle in and trust the moment, you start to really feel at home.
Every time I go home, I look around, and it feels surreal. Like, I'm not living out of my car anymore, I don't have to ask people for money.
And it isn't that I'm so unhappy I don't want to live anymore. That's not what it feels like. It feels more like I'm tired and bored and the party's gone on too long and I want to go home. I feel flat and there doesn't seem to be anything to look forward to, so I'd rather call it a day.
It always just feels good going back home. It feels like nothing has changed. Seeing my room, the views. It, like, grounds you.
I like to build a character, trying to stretch my imagination as far to the walls of my brain as I can to come up with something that feels truthful and feels real - as close to the skin as I can get it.
I love the Rio Grande Valley. I always say it's home - Texas is home. I've been out in L.A. a little over ten years, and I still get so excited when I go back home. It just feels comfortable; it makes me smile.
Refugee today means somebody who has no home. No homeland. No security. No government to protect him or her. And it is of course one feels not only uprooted, one feels useless. One feels always surrounded by hostile forces. Arousing suspicion.
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