#139
Can you own a city?
I was asking my friend, but she wasn’t listening. We were outside, watching the rain.
Me: doesn’t happen here as much as I’d like.
Her: you’re not used to it yet?
Me: I’m trying not to get used to it.
Owning a city seems silly. Seems ridiculous.
Me: My memories are tied up in brick, stone, on sidewalks and trains. In pubs, cafes, on walks, in trees. Certain streets.
Her: you can’t own a city.
Me: I owned it for a while. And left sachets of life behind to find later on.
Her: sounds like you need to take a trip.
Me: the rain stopped. Let’s get a drink.