HWY sketches: You feel like someplace else

We spoke at length about our sense of places, the way building's facades tell stories about their days, how urban form provides structure or erodes it-
My feelings sprawled over your landscape in an untidy mess, an uninspired mimicry of rurality- cul de sacs and winding lanes- cheap nostalgia for good simple living and dirty calloused hands, two things you've never had.
Staying smart in the city, focused and sharp in all you do (right.) lay out our lives like a colonial town turned metropolis
grids,numbers, streets
Avenues! Boulevards!
(roundabouts to make me dizzy)
Your roadmap is too worn to read the street names clearly

It's like Vancouver, I guess
You're beautiful and lush and alive
But I hate your fucking yoga pants and the way everything's so far apart
And long car rides
And taking the bus
You know I get motion sickness and sometimes just want to lie still, eyes closed, while I wait for it to pass
But that's not how it works, I have to look out the window and watch another block of detached homes with shitty basement apartments go by
And I get claustrophobic just thinking about the low ceilings which helps nothing.

I was staring at a ceiling here at home in Montreal,
Thinking about the 2x4s that hold it up,
The decades old mould growing under the tiles of my best friends's bathroom
About climbing onto the roof to make out with someboy in the early evening darkness of mid November- it seems like years ago
I was thinking about the way the roof of my old apartment building sloped to the center (and how hot it got on the ground floor in January when the radiators were turned up so high that I slept by my open window)
The crooked floors of my 3rd floor kitchen and the basil plant on the balcony I never could keep alive
And at the end of it all I felt your body, rigid like a steel beam holding far more than it's own weight,
I'm feeling more like decorative wood paneling
Or yellowing wallpaper