Jessica was telling me about her new job, at an English-themed restaurant downtown.  Said she was really digging it. 

First thing that comes to mind, first thing I ask her: DO THEY HAVE A SUNDAY ROAST?????

It haunts me, this memory of being in Brighton, eating a giant meal with a dead bird as its lynchpin, exhausted from hiking up a giant hill just to get to the pub, exhausted again after the shitload of food, drunk (for the third day in a row), surrounded not only by friends, but by friends who share my passion for photography, that halfway around the world is a place that very much feels like a home. 

Brighton has become, for me, like the island on Lost: I HAVE TO GO BACK.