Just when you start to dance with the city, you've got to head out of town.
There's that feeling in your gut that somewhere, between Foggy Bottom and Capitol South, you've left something behind.
Not a sweater, not a book. You left your inhibitions, your insecurity behind. You've stopped looking at the map, stopped counting the stations as you pass them. You just ride.
You are such a fool of a place. Why the nation's capital is full of the homeless I will never understand. Why violence occurs every night, and with the morning news comes another death.
But you are one heck of a place. I'm not sure I'm in love, but I'm leaving, so maybe absence makes my heart grow fonder for a city.