But what happens to me with places is much, much more harder.
It's 1:30AM. In Auckland. I'm hungry.
This is a terrible combination.
So I decide to go out. As I go out the door, though, I spot a Toronto flyer in the Accomodation rack. I grab it. I glance at it. I see the map, and the address: the corner of King and Spadina.
And the memory pops into my head: Running north from Union Station on a warm, damp summer night, after the subway's stopped, streets still patchily wet with puddles, buildings still brightly lit.
And I want to be there again. Now.
I'm in Auckland, which is fine, and I wanna stay, but for the seconds I'm looking at the flyer, my head fills with an August Toronto night.
Teleportation, temporal and spatial, is what my brain wants, right?
After getting back from the White Lady with a NZ$6 burger and the convenience store with a 600mL L&P (Lemon & Paeroa), the hostel video feed is playing a U2 video filmed in Berlin, and for that second I'm back, walking past the Reichstag on a crisp October afternoon, admiring the glass dome contrasted against the 19th century stone.
Yeah, this is much harder than missing people. Mostly, I can find the people you miss, if you try hard enough, and I didn't piss them off enough.
But those place-moments in memory live only in my head.