Most of my memories of Seattle are from childhood – dreary trips to the doctor, harrowing surgeries, pain, fear. Or of adolescence, when my driving need to leave home took precedence over anything else.
The two years that I lived here as an adult did not mitigate the past; that short residence had the opposite effect. I could have settled for a pleasant middle class existence in my pretty house on the hill, but the view of the mountains just taunted me. When I left the country I didn’t even plan to come back for a visit.
It is a surprise to find myself back here again without any regrets, having a brilliant time. I do not understand how any of this happened though I do find it all quite amusing.
At the Hideout:
Wandering at night:
Rosyvelt at the Comet:
