I’ve moved more in the past two weeks than the past two years, I think.
I dipped my toes in the Atlantic last week, and I dipped them in the Pacific today.
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I dipped my toes in the Atlantic last week, and I dipped them in the Pacific today.
California hasn’t gotten any less strange.
It sort of feels like flying. Flying is strange, but you’re locked in. They seal the doors, your seat-mates hem you in, you’re stuck, so you’ve got to just accept it. When I’m in for the duration on a plane I don’t really feel bad and long for not being on a plane, mostly I acclimate but it doesn’t feel particularly real. California doesn’t feel particularly real.