By the time checkout arrives, the great rains have piled in over the coastline. You can imagine 18th century hurricanes drowning colonizing entrepreneurs, making their money off the backs of shackled humans and thriving off their own daring leaps into the world. The histories of the one doesn't exist without the other, and it is a legacy the sweltering peninsula has yet to reckon with.
The drive to the airport is a dive in the ocean, you know the delay will catch you well before it appears on your screen. The stereo system plays Here comes the rain again and you wonder if it's on purpose or simply cruel irony. And while all you want is to return home, to sit quietly in the crooked apartment at the very edge of Brooklyn and watch the sun set over Manhattan, pacing an airport brings you just as much peace. It may take a lifetime to build a home, but once you get there, it remains with you.
The desert calls you again, the road. Your suitcase is full of new itineraries, your head is full of dreams. This town broke you once,
but you have yet to be broken.
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