I'm back in Arizona, after nearly a week in Idaho. I can't say I was happy to see the swimming pool-studded expanse of the Phoenix metropolitan area from the plane, but I felt better about my return once I passed the Tangerine off-ramp on I-10. It's strange to be back, though. I feel like I've made some important discoveries over the summer, which were amply reinforced by my time away. Unfortunately, they aren't discoveries that I can turn into productive action anytime soon. I'd use an aquatic metaphor, describing myself as being caught in a rip current, except that my need to see the ocean is too strong to indulge such a trope. Suffice to say that I not only feel displaced, but in a way that accentuates my inability to make forward progress towards any place I wish to be. Sometimes, when I'm away on a trip, I am able to trick myself into thinking that the reality I've been living is one that I will wake up from upon my return home. Invariably, though, the riot of green I see in these fantasies turns out to be the same desiccated landscape from which I long to be liberated. Bleach the color out of things and you're left, not with white, but an abundance of brown.