A familiar street can hold versions of you that no longer exist.

Places hold our earlier selves better than we do. Walking a street you used to live on brings back not just events but the person who had those hopes and fears, and that person is gone in every way except this one. The strange ache of it is recognition without reunion.

If you find yourself in such a place, let it be a visit rather than a verdict. You are not obliged to feel any particular way about who you used to be. Notice what has changed in you and let the rest simply be old weather.