Neopolitan ice cream begs for the three flavors to be mixed together until all one has is a light brown sugary mess. Such was my state of mind as the plane touched down at the Sea-Tac airport. I could barely recall my purpose in coming here.
The familiar city streets and bustling sounds of Seattle seep into my pores as I go further down the rabbit’s hole. I dive into an Irish pub for a spell, then wander over to an Indian place for a bite to eat, mixing the pungent aroma of vegetable korma with the salty air wafting in through the open door.
Everyone says that we will survive this current viral pandemic, but I wonder if that really will be the case. Will one be able to wander aimlessly in a city without fear of the unknown and unseen viruses in the air?