seattle

I already knew I loved Seattle -- the brick and mortar feel of odd corners and old streets, the way that alleys aren't hidden away even in downtown, and the bury-down-deep-somewhere-warm instinct of the locals. Once you've survived a winter here and breathed in the crisp-leaf air of fall or stood stock-still on a windless day to try and feel the warmth of a stray sun beam, it begins to make sense that Seattle is carved out by the mountains and weather around it.

What I did not yet love about Seattle is its depth of history, its habit of leaving the traces and grime of age, how it doesn't hide behind Plexiglas windows or perfectly smooth concrete sidewalks. And how you need only walk down-hill to get to the water.