From David Plante's "The Pure Lover"

...

Calmly, you said, “I wish I could go home.”
“But we are at home. You don’t think we are?”
“Not quite.”
“Where is home then?”
“In London,” you said, and then, “This is London.”
“It is, and we’re at home here.”
“Not quite,” you said again.
“Is Greece home?”
“No, no quite.” You were silent, trying to think, then you said, “Home has many meanings.”