It's funny how a place that was once your home can feel so foreign, so unknown. Sabrina and I were in the back of a taxi on Irving Park, and I tried to point out JC's studio but I couldn't find it. It wasn't until we arrived that he reminded me that it wasn't actually on Irving. Forgetful mistakes like this keep throwing me off, but then other things are comfortingly unchanged. Things like seeing your best friend from grade school and jumping back like no time had passed. And I thought of Karinsa last night as we walked down Fullerton and sat down at the Whirlaway, where we had her goodbye party. Inside, it was the same as it ever was -- drinks $5 and delivered with a smile -- and it felt good to have consistency in a time that has felt anything but.
It's funny to be at JC's and have almost everything feel the same. The house has the same warm scent, and the plant that he took for me when I moved out west has grown and thrived. As has he. I couldn't be prouder of him, or more grateful for his friendship.
This city is a patchwork of memories both faded and vivid. And while it's true that you can never relive the past, it's nice to know you can go home again.
It's funny to be at JC's and have almost everything feel the same. The house has the same warm scent, and the plant that he took for me when I moved out west has grown and thrived. As has he. I couldn't be prouder of him, or more grateful for his friendship.
This city is a patchwork of memories both faded and vivid. And while it's true that you can never relive the past, it's nice to know you can go home again.
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