I have love affairs with cities. Some of the most beautiful cities in the world have been at the center of my fantasies: San Francisco, Edinburgh, and Vancouver. I have even had a love affair with London with its amazing museums and rich history. I could lose myself in those winding streets and emerge, after dusk, happy and satisfied, filled on the delights of the city.
My current love affair is Vancouver. I long to see her again, to taste the salt air on my lips, to breath in the pine-scented breeze.
I didn’t get to see enough on the three trips I took in the last year. It wasn’t nearly enough.
I want to taste, smell, hear, feel, and see more.
I long to walk along the streets and pop in somewhere for fresh sushi.
I want to wander around the library until I find that perfect place to sit and read and watch and listen.
I want to walk along the shore and hear the tide roll in.
I’m craving it.
While my love affairs are most definitely one-sided, they are love affairs. I miss the cities that I fall in love with. I wish to be with them.
The thing about cities, though, is that they never fail me. They continue on, enticing me, never disappointing because I have seen their flaws, their dirty laundry and their scars and I still love them.