Crowds of texture shake your senses awake, rummage heedlessly through your memories like a child with a worn shoebox of old family photos. They light ablaze your emotions, grab hold of you and tell you to look. To see. And before you recognize it, they fill your reserves and send you on your way.

It's only after the door closes behind you that you begin to understand and appreciate the interaction, though never fully. It's a fleeting experience and by now, long gone. But it returns – it always does. Uninvited, in a different (though faintly familiar) form, always welcome.