I must take some pics and somehow say goodbye to my childhood home.
I know there's a good story/storybook in here someplace, but how often do you take pictures of the outside of your house?
If you didn't have the ideal childhood, how do you contain the simultaneous desire to stock up on explosives...with the desire to chain yourself in "your room," throw a tantrum, and not let them take it away.
How do you separate a house from a home, and again from a home-town? What happens to all the memories of place...?
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