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.