Saturday, September 30, 2006


As I was driving from San Francisco International Airport toward North I-101 to the East Bay on I-80, I was bothered by how I felt with the surrounding areas. The mountains have patches of green trees but a lot of it are brown space of dirt and dead weeds in between. The roads and highways were cracked in some spots and the asphalt needs resurfacing. As I pass by the Bay bridge, the rusts on the steel of the bridge are very obvious. Some of the highway railings on I-80 that divide traffic are either destroyed or missing, like broken teeth. And I could have sworn it smelled like rotten eggs for quarter of a mile when I passed by the Berkeley Marina.

(I must admit, I was probably comparing it with Virginia. I still dream of the beauty and splendor of that State. Okay, okay...I digress.)

Probably, I remembered the Bay area to be something more glorious, like wishing it was perfect even with all its flaws.
The weird thing is, I felt a pull inside of me that spelled "memories!" A very strong sense of...




I never really left!


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