Wanoah

I felt a small tingle of excite­ment as I walked out of the sta­tion and clambered into the back of a black cab. Was it excite­ment? Or just a touch of nerves? They can feel like the same thing, can’t they? I’m not really sure what I’m anti­cip­at­ing, but this city holds some pretty strong memor­ies for me. It’s dif­fi­cult. I haven’t been back here since…well it’s been a while. It’s like return­ing to the scene of a crime. I’m hoping…I’m hop­ing for what exactly? For it to still be the place that lives and breathes in my mind? For it not to have changed? Or for it to have changed out of all recog­ni­tion? I’m really not sure. Every street is paved with his­tory. (more…)