Cities can impress their qualities upon you, the way, when slicing an afternoon sandwich, a thumbprint marks the top slice of bread. The soft indentation can influence a deeper feeling; for me, this image recalls the memories of turkey, tuna, ham and cheese, PB& J, and even the beloved bologna of my childhood – the sandwiches my dad would pack for lunch or make me on the weekends, with chips on the side.
But most importantly, his fingerprint was a mark of presence. And when I recall him, I remember all the other wisdoms he shared; the influences and nudges, soliloquies and advice, the Swiss cheese method of poking holes in the whole to do things slowly, so you can enjoy the process, however overwhelming, one bite at a time.
Alas, Seattle is a city that allows your mind to wander as its sophisticated architecture and somber Puget Sound whisper sweet nothings that inspire something, an idea perhaps, of how you ought to live, are living. Seattle is obvious only to the observer, otherwise it is easy to overlook. But still, it shifts something deep along your fault line(s), the great Cascadia Subduction Zone of your being.