He sat there looking empty and out of touch. I can tell by simply looking at him that there’s definitely something broken inside of him. I sat there beside him in silence, searching for something to say, but suddenly i realized that he was always an angel with broken wings. He was always longing for a home. He was always a stranger and an outsider, but he had no wings to fly home. Most of the time he didn’t seem to have a home, or to know where that home is. I constantly and stupidly told him that “home is where your heart is”, but i never knew that it’s his heart what was broken.. So, where do you go when you have a broken home? – Read on Path.