…for my shitty memory as much as for you, my esteemed reader. Downtown hasn’t changed in the five or so years since I last took that walk. Tourists and nut jobs screaming at the sidewalk. You can see the years of meth in the faces of some of the locals.

Meandering back towards wells ave i pass under a tree admiring all the brick houses and I spot a dog smiling at me. Looks, as they say, can be deceiving. He did not appreciate my presence. His buddy, though was downright livid. That fucker nearly cleared the fence multiple times as I bee-liked across the street. Not afraid of dogs, but I’m taking enough risks here as it is.

Its all very sentimental and surreal, wandering your old stomping grounds. Taking the same vaguely reminiscent routes as that time I puked in someone’s back yard or ran from the cops mad about fireworks of questionable legality. I knew it would be like this and it started before I saw the lights of the strip. It first started when I rode under the first I-80 to reno sign back in Sacramento. But it’s profound. Then again I’m pretty stupid and see profundity in the unlikeliest of places.

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