paul hawthorne. he had three metal fingerpicks on his right hand, plucking away at a banjo resting comfortably on his crossed legs. i pulled up a chair to listen and learn while josh silently stood by side. chattanooga chattanooga chattanooga went the rhythm of his song, a lively tune like a smalltown dance in the backwater woods of america. "so
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-josh bandy
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but seriously, i love the way you write my friend.
-bren
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