Wherever you go, there you breathe

Diana+, Cross-prossessed Velvia 100 film

The air smells differently in other places, she reminded me.  I knew just what she meant the other morning as I stared down long lines of headlights. How often do they see a pedestrian in these parts?  A runner that's not in the gym or on the special, designated paths?  I thought about all those morning commutes, all those wheels, the windows and doors and metal that house their people everywhere they go.

I ran up a hill and thought, this is how it smells without oxygen. 

I'm taking deep breaths and inhaling every detail in this once-home, now-destination.  Seeing it with the eyes of one who has been away, pondering the places we come from, the places we go and the gallaxies that live inside that small word: home.