I returned yesterday from a visit to the enchanted realm of New Mexico. My bosses, who are also my friends and insist I refer to them as such , wanted me to see the new office building and to discuss some of our big current projects. They essentially pay me to be Drey and I make cool things for them, resulting in probably the best work situation I could ask for. I do regularly talk with them on the phone, but it is great to reconnect face to face a few times a year.

I had been back last December, but this time around felt a lot different. I felt like I was still in Austin and had just sent a serviceable hologram of myself on the plane. It took a few days to shake the dissonance, but I never stopped feeling like a stranger. Ghosts haunted every street corner and layers of emotional data augmented every interaction.

This has nothing to do with my friends or Albuquerque, but I just didn’t want to be there for very long. I felt like in order to fit into that realm and feel at ease I would need to morph into some old version of myself, a proposition I found horrific. Although there were major changes in the worlds of all of my friends, my version of Albuquerque remained the same.

It really is true: You can’t go home again.