Wednesday, December 20, 2006


The place you grew up has the ring of your mom's kitchen. Each aroma arouses a million memories. As I strolled through the crowded, noisy, dirty streets the only thoughts that raced through my mind were perfect memory of my imperfect childhood. To re-live the beauties you ogled, the classes you enjoyed, the games you won, the bruises you carried, the failures you endured, the destitution you suffered. More exhilarating than a million orgies.

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