the thing about traveling, is that immersion into one world, when your roots have been in another, and that return. like waking up from a night of broken dreams, you don’t know what you’re coming back into, or if you’re the same person returning. somewhere in a million tiny places, there have been fractures.
starting at sunset yesterday, i took a boat ride, a propeller plane ride, a jumbo jet flight through the night, then a commuter flight and long drive to reach home.
home?
i realized landing in los angeles, after spending the week in tahiti, that this was home. walking out into the air, the feel of it, the smell of it, it made me relax into me. this is where i find myself. my home in la is me.
i only spent a few seconds on that curb, but even after flying back to the bay, back where my obligations lay, i still feel it inside me.
the bay area is where i come from.
la is my home.