I ventured into my old stomping grounds tonight, German Village. I spent twelve years in this old neighborhood, and, as a walking sort of neighborhood, was surprised to find that I still knew all the little shortcuts and details that I'd thought I'd forgotten. I felt myself irresistibly pulled into the neighborhood bookstore, wandering little rooms I'd spent so much time in years ago. The streets and sidewalks are all still brick, and I don't care how graceful you are; you will trip from time to time. Somehow that's reassuring, that the history of this little neighborhood is that persistent.