Home

  Home. There's nothing quite like it. Nothing quite like looking out your window and seeing the reeds of the pond outside, with mountains and trees behind them. Nothing quite like walking down your quiet street, or knowing the faces of people you see as you speed downtown. Nothing quite like feeling the wind from the open taxi window, the potholes that never end, or listening to the music that mixes together then fades away as you move on.
  Random shadows, well known faces...both dance through your mind and memory with every step you take. Voices reach your ears as you open the gate. It's like opening the top to a treasure chest. Out spring old joys, old sorrows, old pleasures, and old pains. And they're thoroughly loved.

  It's beauty.

  It's pure pleasure.

  You walk through the open market. Smells all mix together. New shoes, fish, fresh fruit, rotten fruit, exhaust from taxis, and the beautiful smell of hot fresh bread...they all mix together in one huge aroma known as downtown. Trash and dirt mean nothing; mud is a much loved sight. The sound of rain on your window as you lie in bed at night, the pounding of a hammer in the back yard, the earthy smell that fills your lungs every time you leave your house...it's familiar.

  It's lovely.

  There's nothing quite like it.