I'm learning to love the long process of intimacy with this city - this vast outspreading of openwork streets, shooting past the grimacing faces of too many disheveled coin laundries and quickie-marts and perfunctory city parks, with their spotty grass and lonely skateboarders.
It's the repurposing of a space. This street, that you once only knew as the spot the farmer's market sets up on Sunday mornings, is the one you drive to in the morning for a job. You breeze in the mysterious door that you used to see only as the background behind the woman who sold good lettuce.
Maybe it won't be so bad, being here a little while longer. It feels right, and we've only just begun to unfold ourselves into this high-perched space.