I’m passing through the great array of wide commercial valleys that are the streets of Mississauga. I’m on my way to see my dear friend Mateo, always a great source of inspiration; surely useful in this early stage of an especially challenging NaNoWriMo project.
I left the highway early because it was congested and I was ahead of schedule and it’s useful sometimes, to wander to one’s destination, taking in the sights.
It is a very curious experience being here. The emotion is hard to interpret for a while. It is some kind of nostalgia certainly. This is the city where I last lived when I was still normal. This is the city where I lived while experiencing the bulk of my journey out of normalcy.
These are the streets I traversed late at night looking for some quiet space to explore or from which to stargaze; some park or beach or river.
Why do I feel like I somehow miss that old pre-journey life? That life of work and sleep and play amid the web of illusions? Surely I would never wish to return to that.
But before I reach Mateo’s house it has become clear what it is which I feel the nostalgic pang for. It is a loss of innocence.