home

Believe it or not, our beloved college town has a charming doppelganger just northwest of Denver.

As we each take our moment of transitory reprieve — whether by train, plane, car or subway — here are some songs to offer an empathetic companion.

I dream of being exactly where I am. Waking up to gray skies wrapped in light pink sheets. / I’ve replaced the cool coastal wind for pulsing still air, / Quiet boys in gray hoodies for young men in suits.

The books that have earned their place on my shelf, however, are the ones I share a history with. When I read them, I’m taken back to the places where I once lived, and the person that I was when I lived there.

Chance could have faced anywhere else, the fog rolling out to sea, the waning moon or maybe even just toward nothing at all, I walked right past his organs baking on the asphalt with a vacuum in my chest.

I find myself incredibly grateful now, finally, for things that I always should’ve been grateful for.

Your slang and your streets became familiar, and without even realizing it, I had come to call you home.

Leaving home is such a strange thing. I came to Berkeley, California, last year and told myself that I would never look back.

Unfortunately, sorority girls are observant. Like I said, there are no secrets beyond our perfectly manicured lawns and Greek letters.

Contained in that cup were East Coast strip malls, cowboy hats in 100-degree heat and homemade face masks made from linen freckled with various dogs. Inside that cup was chicken soup for the lost soul.