I have one, or two, constant, inescapable needs; certain hungers to slake at least two or three times a day. (you know which ones I’m referring to, right?) These purposes are what led me to you initially. I knew exactly what I liked about you then. when I think of you it’s hard to remember any time but the good times. Perhaps I thought of you too much, built you too far up in my mind out of nostalgia, desire or appetence. I remember why I stopped coming, but not why I never came back. I wondered if I had been prematurely dismissive when I noticed a different taste about you. it made me sick. I distrusted you immediately because your consistency was your only claim to reliability. it only takes a single inconsistency to shatter all illusions as to what in life is dependable. had you ceased to taste good, or had I just lost my taste for you? my curiosity has coaxed me into trying many new things that I have regretted deeply. it has also been known to lead me back to old things. I walk down your street and there you are in your same old place. It’s almost as if nothing’s actually changed–you look great, maybe better than you did, and I still remember all your corners–the warm ones, the cool ones, the views from all positions. I come to you, specifically, for one thing. there was only one thing I needed from you, and that was pad thai. you once had the most sumptuous pad thai in the city. you’ve changed– you’re cheapened somehow. Quite frankly, your noodles now taste like ketchup and texas pete. with deepest regrets I leave you in the past. things change, people change, places change–even a thing ageless and timeless as thai food is not exempt.