Prescott, AZ

Farewell lovely land of the mountains. I hardly spent four weeks with you but already miss your sunsets, downtown, evening breezes, and the comfort of knowing my way around even if I couldn't remember how.

Prescott is one of my favorite places. Not necessary because of the people, but because of so many individuals that make up the blood of the city. It's tried and old blood in general but frightfully alive and pure in a way. It has a less intense sucking sensation compared to California but I feel as if a part of me has been left there, not with the people or with family but with the city: the rooftops, the gazebo next to the courthouse, St. Michaels, Firehouse Square, the tunnels (I missed the art rooms on this recent tour and am sad), the shops, and oh so many places.

Grab some gelato and walk down Whiskey Row. Eat some lunch at St. Michaels. Compare the murals and statues hidden amongst public facilities (the parking garage and library for example). Explore a lake or the dells as the sun sets. Traverse a storm drain to test some true underground art once the lights are low. Make even Aladin jealous as you finish the evening bounding from rooftop to rooftop watching people and the city drift into a stupor. It's majestic.