It tugs; it whispers. Quiet at first, but it builds over time, insinuates itself into everything I do, makes everything an echo - makes everything remind me of it.
This is where I grew up. I know every diner where steam rises from 2am coffee. I know every pulsing-neon nightclub. I know how the fog eddies around your feet when you stride home after a night out.
I know the luthiers and the chandlers, the booksellers and the painters. I know where to get the best coffee, the best pastries. I know the alleyways with the murals. I know the apiaries and the perfumers.
I know the secret histories, and I know who the castle gates will open for, and when. I know the fairy tales. I know where to find the flower that grows in the Carnival District alone, where the first Lishaya fell.
I know what happened before the Fall.
This is how to get there:
Go outside. Close your eyes.
Follow the longing.
Come with me.