our inability proves nothing but the weakness of our reason, and not the uncertainty of our knowledge

I'm reading Nocturnes, "five stories of music and nightfall", by Kazuo Ishiguro, who wrote Never Let Me Go and The Remains of the Day, both books I can distinctly remember reading. I remember where I was in my life, the season (summer and winter, respectively), and even where specifically I was while reading (Metra train and Kaohsiung airport). I think that means something.

"Beyond the wall that marked the end of the terrace, I could see for miles around the windows and back yards of the neighboring properties. A lot of the windows were lit, and the ones in the distance, if you narrowed your eyes, looked almost like an extension of the stars. This roof terrace wasn't large, but there was definitely something romantic about it. You could imagine a couple, in the midst of busy city lives, coming out here on a warm evening and strolling around the potted shrubs, in each other's arms, swapping stories about their day."

I particularly like the last line. And for some reason, I'm rather stricken by this picture. It's a famous corner in a well-loved neighborhood in Chicago, Wicker Park. It reminds me of when I first began exploring different neighborhoods in the city because when you're a kid, you're not aware of too much else beyond downtown. So much of it has become familiar to me now, but I've recently begun to expand even further outward. Plus, I don't know the downtown area so well anymore.

Always more to learn and see. And every window pulled up on my browser now is dedicated to flight research. Planning the next several months full of trips.