Perhaps it is the resuscitation of naïve hope that leads me to believe that I’m entering a new season with a sense of something stable. I’m unsure if it’s this city or this age, or the circles of people in which I run, but transience has been my Boston norm. Yet somehow I think I can now stay in this city, and I can make it feel like my home. I’m unsure if the walls will fall back down to let in anyone new, or if I could (or should?) fall into routine with those who are already here.

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