What is this thing that happens inside us? We look forward to something with such fervor that we can hardly bear the intensity. And then, sometimes within seconds of reaching the goal, we grow bored and tired of it, even acting as though we’d never wanted it in the first place.
There’s that photograph in the travel book, the one we stare at for hours, imagining what it would be like to be standing in the picture. Then, after enduring the obstacles and frustrations of modern transportation, we’re there. Now we’re gazing upon the same scene – those mountains, that bridge, this landmark. For entire minutes, we have to remind ourselves that we’re no longer home, dreaming of the visit. We’ve removed most of the physical space that had separated us from this place, and we’re really here.
It happened the first time I went to Washington DC and saw…
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