The Entoto Mountains disappearing in darkness framed my horizon; if I left, those mountains would sink back to the ground, descend into nothingness; the mountains needed me to gaze at their tree-filled slopes, just as I needed them to be certain I was alive.
I've felt this way about the place that I grew up. And, in fact, the place of my childhood has never been the same when I do go back. This line really struck me. Just like the river is never the same twice, a place soaked in nostalgia will never look quite the same. You are different when you return, and so is the place.
