Memories

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If you did go back to the place you left not long ago, you’d be welcomed with open arms, warms smiles, and the dangling smells of youth. In some ways, it would be as if you never left, never gathered up your books and your hairbraids and your dreams as you closed the door behind you.
But you and I both know that memories are but wisps and not monuments. They linger sweetly for a few moments before quickly turning rancid and limp from the warmth of your desire to return.
So turn, now, to your strong and vigorous youth

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