But the people I loved were still there

I love this little feature in the NYT.  It appears on page 3.  It looks like observation and insight that didn't appear in a story.  They're little thoughts, complete little observations that are "important."  My favorite is the last.  It reads like a prose poem:

Sydney wasn't the city I remembered. But the people I loved were still there, and we celebrated birthdays, weddings and anniversaries. When the sun came out, we lay in it. I listened to the sounds of native birds, trying to bottle it up for the next year.