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November 6, 2007
Do you remember the sound of this feeling? Like sundown reeling, like summertime stealing, running home to your mother. The smell of supper as you crash through the back door, the smell of new notebooks and the shoes that you hated but you wore. Do you come here to feel home again although we are both left alone and then no one is sure what just happened. Is home not as nice as it used to be, now just familiar if we can speak truthfully. Do you wonder as you pass through the door, should I really come here anymore?