Arrive in a town with none of your footprints on it, immediately begin to make them. Piece together a puzzle that reminds you of others but also of nothing. Remember how you went to Southern California one autumn to make peace with a city you thought had taken everything from you - and it had.
Only, the things which were yet to be given to you had not appeared on your doorstep. You couldn’t lose them in that fire. So now when they appear in the palms of your hands they feel strange, weighted, precarious. This town looks nothing like that one.
Only if you’re trying to make it something
you do not get to keep.
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