I knew two poor people who lived in a tent in a spiritual corner of Buda Hills, well within the Budapest city limits. They were Hungarian refugees from one of the post-Yugoslav wars. A trendy term would be homeless, but this somewhat degrading word is inaccurate for several reasons. For one they did have a home in the form of their tent, albeit not very spacious and definitely inadequate in the winter. For two they were protected by the “Zone” (as one of my friends named the old stone quarry after the Tarkovsky movie). Thirdly they had a place of refuge in the Indian reservation mockingly called the country of Hungary. This last one did not give them much but at least bullets were not whistling and they could speak their mother tongue without negative consequences. Finally, they also had our common home, this magnificent planet, Earth.