Houston

Houston, a constant love affair that I have yet to dip my toes into. I have grown up here, felt her smog-filled air caress my silky, black locks, let the wrath of her sun coat my darkening skin, play in her waters where she time and time again fills my house knee deep in; yet, I feel a sense of strangeness, the kind you get when you’re a little stuck in new territory. Once, I had a little lay over in Seattle and felt the need to explore its little facets. I rode her train and waited for my next stop, her little market of wonders. I took a bite of a peach and found myself in the nook of a window, reading the infamous lines of Nietzsche ‘God is Dead.’ I felt drunk, drunk on food, drunk on the constant influx of information my brain keeps hearing, drunk on the constant chatter of the world, drunk on all this information that I don’t know what to do with. Where do I put it? How do I categorize it? Is this useful to me later on? I don’t know so I pocket it away in my little tummy. I walk a few more steps, another train, another car ride, another flight. I keep walking, my toes hungry for more, my brain fighting for adventure, my hands grasping for something, and I walk. And I walk. And I walk. And I keep walking. And it’s fun for me and I get to see so many things and I get to pretend I’m so many different things, humans, animals, bugs, trees. It’s fun! Because in the end, I do think that there’s something looking out for us and I come home to Houston, to find all the small wonders of other cities in my own hands, in my own home.