Places remember nothing, yet somehow we remember ourselves through them.

The street has no memory of you. It is entirely indifferent, and that is precisely what makes it useful: it stays still while you change, so returning shows you the distance you have travelled. What feels like the place remembering is really the place holding a fixed point against which you can see yourself.

When you go back somewhere, look for what has changed in you rather than in it. That is where the information is. The place is only the measuring stick, and it never had an opinion about you at all.