Chasing 23°C Dreams in the Middle of Nowhere
it’s weird how a string of numbers can send you somewhere. 1276100. 1356981799. no idea what they mean, but i’m here, in this small town where the air smells like dry grass and diesel, and the temp is sitting at a perfect 23.12°c with a humidity that’s low enough to keep your hair from turning into a frizz bomb. feels like 22.22°c, which, honestly, is the kind of weather that makes you want to lie in a field and stare at clouds until your brain melts.
i just checked and it’s 23.12°c there right now, hope you like that kind of thing. the pressure is 1008, which sounds like a code for "everything’s fine, keep moving." the ground level pressure is 1006, which i’m pretty sure means the earth is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
this place is small, but it’s got character. the kind of town where the main street is lined with shops that look like they’ve been there since the 80s, and the locals give you a nod like they’re trying to place you in their mental rolodex. i heard that the best coffee in town is at this little spot called *the grind, and someone told me that their espresso is so strong it’ll make your teeth hurt. i haven’t tried it yet, but i’m planning to tomorrow morning, right after i check out the farmers market.
"if you’re here for the weekend, don’t miss the sunset at the old mill. it’s not on any map, but everyone knows about it."
i overheard that from a guy at the gas station, and now i’m weirdly obsessed with finding this mythical mill. maybe it’s just a pile of rusted metal, but i need to see it for myself. the town is surrounded by fields that stretch forever, and if you get bored, nearby cities* are just a short drive away. i’m thinking of renting a bike tomorrow and just pedaling until i find something interesting. or until i get lost. either way, it’ll be an adventure.
the thing about small towns is that they’re full of secrets. like the rumor that there’s a hidden waterfall just outside of town, or the story about the old theater that’s supposedly haunted. i’m not a ghost hunter, but i’m tempted to check it out just to see if there’s any truth to it. and if there’s a ghost, well, that’s just a bonus.
anyway, this place is growing on me. it’s quiet, it’s weird, and it’s exactly what i needed. if you’re ever in the area, stop by and say hi. just don’t expect me to be anywhere specific-i’ll probably be the one lying in a field, staring at clouds.
the grind | farmers market | old mill