**
Since the first day I arrived in Washington, I felt an itch underneath the skin, a persistent feeling of something not right.
At first I thought it was entering a world in which people lived and breathed politics, a world where people talked about the tangled web of lobbying and elections at dinner parties. Or that everyone was transitory, so no one cared to make lasting ties. Or, as my dad put it, that DC was a small town made into a city just because the most important man in the world lives here.
But that persistent itch isn’t any of those things. This morning I woke up and knew exactly what it is.
I can’t find DC’s heart.
