Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin.

A personal tidbit, rather than an extradited contemplation:

I've moved to a new city for the summer. I spend most of my time walking around, looking up at the different/same sky, and the people and buildings that have set themselves up to surround me. This is an entirely different place from where I regularly reside, and that is what I enjoy most.

However, it seems as though people commonly notice those things that remind them of where they've come from. The favourite cafe I've discovered reminds me of one from my town. One of my roommates is the doppelganger of my friend Sam Rodgers. As a matter of fact, I am seeing doppelgangers on every street corner, ghostlike renditions of friends from other places. It is at once both familiarizing and estranging.

Perhaps I am one among very few who imperceptibly search for those things known in what is unknown. But, still, one then wonders how an embrace can be shaped that includes only the wonder of all things unrecognized.