What pride I feel to be surrounded by bicycles across Hawthorne.
Lulled to sleep with memories of kind smiles from strangers.
Local coffeeshops filled to the brim
Like foaming chais or steaming americanos.
Breathtaking Tabor leaves me with chills no matter how many shoes I wear out circling her.
Sun, rain, fog, wind, heat, cool, mist, dark gray, evergreen-somehow nouns move to adjectives when describing the weather here
Like this mist has become a color I associate with home.
The Welsh "hiraeth," resonates with me. I feel such longing just thinking about leaving.
I wonder if I ever will.
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