What is that sense of familiarity experienced somewhere entirely foreign? As I move further away from the area where I came of age, I discover some form of nostalgia calling out within each new place—echoes of a feeling vaguely reminiscent of my past. In the people I happen to encounter, both those who become some part of my life and those who soon disperse, as well as in the land itself, a haunting similarity seems present. Is the place I once knew as the world—that place once called home—the source of this lingering feeling; the source for all familiarity? Or was that, too, somewhere that once felt strangely familiar?
Now I face home again, very pleas'd and joyous,
(But where is what I started for so long ago?
And why is it yet unfound?)
-Walt Whitman, 'Facing West from California's Shores'