There’s this thing about the way a city makes you feel. Does it know you're trying to not want to care? Does it want to be loved? Does it mind? Does it ask you to leave it behind, for better or worse?
Are you really there? Have you ever really been there? Did you grasp it all? Could you? Did you feel loved by it? Did you spend (not) enough time on the internet while you were there? Were you able to take pictures of it that are enough to satisfy your memories? Could you still draw details of the streets you walked along?
Did the air taste the way you like it in the evenings? Did it make you remember that certain smell you used to chase after while running down the street, towards the river? Were you able to roam through your neighbourhood like you used to? If not, why not try doing it again next time?
Does a city feel less like home just because it's not your home anymore? It probably still speaks to you on an emotional level, in exactly the same way the sea does.
A brutalist tour, maybe not only on the outside but also on the outside. Fresh perspectives - it's all good - and reminders of the humans you want in your life, back at your actual home. You'll ask questions and reply to what it is they want to know.
"Come home with me and it'll be alright."
(Summer Camp - Round The Moon)