A little over an hour or so until we reach NAIA; part of me still hasn’t fully grasped that I’m on my way home. I know it, of course, the same way you know that the childhood home you revisit isn’t going to be a hundred feet tall. But you don’t really know it until you actually see it and your brain finally puts it all together.

Train stations, especially by night, invoke a certain image and commuter cars just ain’t it.

I’ve always dug the effect caused by parallel mirrors. It was this odd eternity that stretched on, but you could never quite see it.