A tangled web of streets, leaning slightly in every direction.

A spangle of names, some of which trigger primal memories.

A third-world city, tucked in amongst the mountains.

A wave of patched memories surges from deep inside, but crashes nowhere. 

It's been twenty years, but that time may as well never have existed.

Maybe someday I will be back again and explore something I will not recognize at all.

The streets will bend into themselves, making knots and revealing buildings that were never there before

Maybe someday I will feel the early morning mountain frost on my bare knees again, and feel like I never left at all.