The physical place where you're comfortable taking your shoes off = (my) HOUSE. I never say my house (the place I live in) is my home, because it's just a place. I may move away, change its appearance and it will mean nothing to me.
I'd say "home" is any place (in time, so it'd actually be moment) in which I'm comfortable with being myself, feeling at my finest (which is probably stepping waaaay out of my comfort zone to do crazy stuff I believe in, like moving alone 1000 miles away from my parents). I am my home. I sometimes believe I'm not my body and I'm like its host, so no matter where I am, I know where I am and what resources I have/lack to survive (meaning my creativity and lack of charisma).
All in all, I think I'd rather call a forest a home than a place where I store furniture (though I'd totally accept to call home the place where my books are, those are sacred), because I feel at ease with myself, like thoughts and worries and doubts and anything human-related matters at all. Just trees, the lake and me, a breathing entity.
I was talking to a Russian guy once, who said that home/family/love consists in the things/people you get used to having around. To me is just the opposite (therefore stopped discussing the idea with him and went away). "Getting used to" is like... the lack of feeling towards something. When I get used to things, they just disappear as things I care about (say a person, a place, or my toaster). The sentiment towards a place I belong to doesn't concern me much (I'm not very patriotic either), because my life has been a constant change of places, houses and people. What is given today, tomorrow I may not have it, so I either have to refrain from the idea of a home, or believe the concept of home is something that can be transported with me, or that can appear or disappear given a set of conditions.
