At first sight, I'm not from anywhere. I'm just here. Again. Despite. Somehow. A trail of sections, really. Beginning & ending in ellipses ( . . . a latest latest-instant . . . ). Maybe it strikes you the same way:
Did you grow up somewhere? Some actually do ( age-out in a single location ). I've met them: the former "Did" meant as a past while the latter "do" meaning a place to still return — or haven't left yet for whatever reason — or none at all.
Anyplace: . . . it's a life . . .
As for me, the first dozen years — umbilical to chin-stubble — were spent in about as many towns. I used to know them by heart ( or maybe I should say by memory — not sure if memory has any heart, but that's where it bursts like a stellar flare, marvelously far away ).
Okay, now double that number, at least, for different residences, within wherever those given authority would temporarily set up their distressed jurisdictions — imaginable, yet not — on the other bank of a river as if pursuers couldn't cross water, or playfully just around a corner — hiding until seeking another fresh try.
The only tangible proof being then, is what I can touch now — "now": what a useless word — it's always already left with its perfect sense without saying so-long — semi-retired now as a distant relative in one of those many sections — sections like rented lodgings with lights kept off —feeling for a bed to slip-in & fall away while listening in on debatable thoughts as if voices from an adjoining room — where one can escape overcautiously early, anxious for a new start — hearing, just as a door is closed, from somewhere, "Remember now, only hellos; no goodbyes".
. . . & so on, in second thought, I guess some words aren't eternally useless & some places are sporadically tangible.
(voice from the future: you can read the next part of this at placelessness (2nd course)