a movable object

I walk to the corner. I turn left. I walk up a block. I turn left. I walk half a block. I glance to my right and I see the place I lived for a month when I first moved to San Francisco eight years ago, when I fell so fast and so hard for this city I could barely stand to sleep through a moment of it. A block away. I didn’t plan that, couldn’t plan it. In fact, if I had, it might be slightly creepy and melodramatic. Instead I call it “poetic” and smile and walk on by. Today was my first morning back at work since the move. I went to the eye doctor before going in, so it wasn’t a real first commute, but it felt pretty astounding nonetheless. This is the first time I’ve lived alone in an actual apartment, and while all...

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