The sun went down at 7pm here two days before the equinox. What you do at sunset is often telling.
The sun slips behind the horizon like tongue over a jagged tooth. Inexorable, with no discernible effect.
But once you decide to leave, the landmarks appear on that same horizon, play hard to get to, appear suddenly outside the open window, and stumble through your mirrors into memory.
A cafe in Portland plays the same songs you heard in Brooklyn. Even the bartender looks familiar. Coincidence is a distraction.
No one will ever feel the same. Revel.