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June 18, 2007
Itís nice to be home again, greeted with boundless enthusiasm by my faithful old dog. My life has been so different for the past few days that I almost expect things here to be different, look different. But they arenít and donít. The construction site is as loud and dusty as possible, the symphony of beeping cement trucks, shouting men, and power tools continuing unabated. A film of depression settles over me along with the cityís summer dust and grime. My thoughts turn to my friendís flower-filled garden as I walk the concrete streets. My spirit already needs refreshment.