Missing the Brizzle

I would get dressed, throw on a coat, put on my sunnies, walk through six doors, and then push open the final one and feel a gush of cold brush against my cheeks. Then, I would feel an innate sense of independence, joy, and  excitement as the wind continues messing up my intentionally uncombed hair.

I miss the cold, I miss the rain, and those sunny days around town. I miss the junction where we would part, my salmon-aglio-olio-pasta, and Sainsburys.

I do miss Bristol -- somewhat.