A new home, he feels. No he doesn't. It is a shelter, as in an inn, for the tired and thirsty traveler. He is hungry and penniless. The lord of the house could have thrown him out. And he did. He could have ended up on the pavements, frigid. And he did. Until a beggar (or was he a leper) took him in. A tent, warm enough to keep his soul and body intact. The night passed, morning came and the traveler left. He took some money for the road. Tonight he found a shelter, another inn, which is this. He ate and bade good night. In bed, he drew his cross and the crescent. To-morrow he leaves.
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