A sense of place: It drives me to explore the immediate world around me. All of what has happened in a place remains, even if the only things left are clues. These hints — discarded scraps of human treasures, rotted stumps of massive trees, carved hollows in rocky soil — express a quiet rhapsody of the past.
Suppose you had a time machine, one that could transport you to a different time in the same place. To when would you go? Or would you stay exactly when you are?