Stanziliëri

As I start the processes of clearing out my English home, for either rental or sales, because I'm not using it anyway at the moment, I think about the thing that connects the west and the east: nature.

I am aware that it might seem absurd, but as I grapple to understand the emotions that a ripe cornfield or a herd of cows or even a tractor on the skyline provoke in me, I can find no better - or more honest - term than love. (...) If you have ever caught your breath at the natural world, if you have ached to be by a favourite stream or meadow, or grieved at the violation of a forest or copse to make way for an airport or housing estate or bypass, if your heart soars when you see a hawk hovering or a skylark on the wing, if the bark of a fox or scream of an owl stops you in your tracks, if you are mesmerized by a hoar frost or falling snow, if the moan of a high wind or the muttering from a thunder cloud fills you with awe, then you will understand that the term love in relation to rural England is not as ludicrous as it might at first appear. Anyway, I felt at home in Yasnaya Polyana.

This is a quote from Jonathan Dimbleby. English reporter, writing from Ясная Поляна (Yasnaya Polyana), the former home of Leo Tolstoy, in Russia.

In my case, I'd only alter 1 thing in that quote to make it mine:

'Anyway, I feel at home in Eastern Europe.'