There are places all over my life that have sad ghosts. Most of those places have been trod over afterward often enough to make the ghosts fade. I rarely go to the U District, so fresh blood was drawn a few times this afternoon when I met up with my own echo. We call this feeling bittersweet, but to me it has always tasted distincly of iron.
the number of places like this for me varies greatly. there are days when avoiding any such places would require staying in my bedroom the whole day...