I savor the way we find familiarity in even the most foreign and unknown of settings.
The way we find elephants and sleeping giants amongst the clouds.
The way we see a praying man of ancient moss and lush green while walking in a rainforest and entering its sacred, sticky stream of consciousness.
The way mountains slope so eagerly to meet the water in one city, on one continent — the spitting image of a composition that was once just the usual, everyday view in another city, on another continent you temporarily called home.
It’s the scent of things we have known before.
The guest with a reputation of turning up unannounced, but one who’s always welcome to stay the night. They rarely do.
