Can a City be a Home?

As I wrote a few days ago, ten years ago I thought I had moved to Berlin to stay. Actually, even just two months ago I still thought this. But when an opportunity to leave suddenly arises during a phase when one is constantly trying to fill a void, it's easier to open up options than when life is full and fulfilled. My answer to what my home is has always been: where my family (husband and kids) and friends are. Most of the latter are all over the world, and I can honestly say that although I know a hundred or more people in Berlin, I have - out of a dozen or so true friends in my life - one left here. So that leaves the city itself. The language? I dislike it more and more, because due to its rules and strict style, although I usually pass for German, I will never be good enough to work in German. Berlin is so cool, cheap, relaxed and interesting. But it's also poor (bankrupt, actually), dirty, rather ugly and big. I do love it, I admit. But it's not a healthy relationship if it does not love me (sniff, sniff)...