Travel

For me, the thrill of travel has always been seeing new shapes, the specific slant of sunlight bouncing off of unfamiliar geography, a different shade of fog, an unknown plant or tree, an outside view at someone else's every-day. I become more attentive as I soak up things never seen, things I'm sure I'll never see again, and the experience feels almost too vivid, dreamlike, magical. But walking through San Francisco last week, I discovered there's a little magic too in seeing these things again, in recognition, in turning the haze of memory into something less vague, in the comfort of discovering that the dream was not a dream after all.