In the same way that the skies in New Mexico were huge and the air clear, in the same way that the streets of New Orleans felt alive with music, my experience of California is living up to the stereotype I have of this place in my head. The West Coast: where people lie around in the sun relaxing the day away.
The only times on this journey I’ve forgotten where I am is at the movies. I thought maybe, since I’m bouncing around so much, I’d finally experience that sensation I’d read about so many times: waking up disoriented and not knowing where you are for a moment. This hasn’t happened to me though. But when I go to a movie, if it’s a good one, if I get lost in it, halfway through it’ll take me a minute to remember what’s just outside the neutral space of the theater, which skyline I’ll see when I walk back out into the real world.
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