My Truest Life

There’s a funny thing that happens when a person returns to the place they grew up. It’s like resetting a clock or erasing a blackboard so something new can be put on it.

The smell, the energy, the noises, the shadows of light that dance between the houses on the ride home from the airport. No matter what has changed, some things remain the same, even though the trees have gotten a little taller .


About humanbeen

I'm a has-been that was. I'm a dreamer that does.
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