It was a long day. Not a bad one, just long and packed too tightly. I was climbing the hill toward home, struggling to schlep 28 pounds of laundry. My heart was beating quickly, and while pausing to catch my breath, I watched the fog crawl in. The air was cold and the sky was gray, and for a moment, there was no traffic on Guerrero. The city has had similar odd patches of silence lately. This one, when combined with the chill and clouds, threw me back to a late winter afternoon in my childhood. I remembered exactly where I stood, my motions, and the feeling was identical. Just for ten seconds or so, like eating a madeleine.