you’re allowed to miss a place you visited only once. it’s okay to find yourself daydreaming about the cobblestone sidewalk and the gloomy gray rain in the city that was not your own. the one with which you had only a brief encounter.
you can crave the sticky sweetness of the pastry you tried one time from the bakery whose name you forgot almost as soon as you walked out, paper box in one hand, coffee in the other.
there’s nothing wrong with wishing you could once again explore the street with the pretty trees you turned down by mistake when you made a right turn at the corner instead of a left.
and if you find that sometimes when you’re lying in bed at night trying to blink away the confusion of the day, you think about the mouth you kissed only once that seems further away now than it did before you explored it at all- the hands that were around you and on you and in you so momentarily that you may have imagined them- the gap that closed between your bodies so briefly that for the entire next day you felt like a stranger to yourself-
then just know that that’s okay too.