Oceanside > Carlsbad

you can tell the cities apart by the individualities found in the poorer of the two.
as you whiz by on the train, swaying with the ocean breeze, you notice bright splashes of color, flashes of lives lived and dreamed up; you view from above the personalities shining through a thousand differences, gazing out a dirty window glass. 
you admire the outspoken uniqueness of the lower class citizens of your tiny, but well known beach town.

you race south, passing a visually pleasing lagoon, glowing in the warm morning sunshine. you glance downward at the book in your lap, then turn a swift eye taking in all your new neighbors on this morning’s travels. suddenly, you realize you are surrounded not by the soft, friendly sea-shell tones of your small town’s ever-changing surf-shacks, but rather, by sharp, classy, earthen brownstones. it’s almost as in a dream where everything in a matter of seconds has grown double and triple the size it was only a moment ago. the cadillac of homes, these uniform seaside condos; it’s attractive in a monotonous, unchanging fashion. in such a short distance you have slid into a new world, a wealthier world. you sweep out of focus, lost in thought… snap back to the present! your eyes open wide. you marvel, unable to discern whether any time or distance has lapsed, the images you now behold become indistinguishable from each other; have you moved at all? it all looks the same.


A little something I jotted down on a train ride to San Diego.


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