I remember the warehouse now; squat and ugly, two-story, of crumbling brick and dirty glass on a simple blacktop lot empty of cars and surrounded by trees. In my memories of those years everything - our house, the tiny concrete highway down the steep hill, the small lake where we sometimes went swimming - all were surrounded by trees, as maybe they
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And great to hear from you, too.
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I still love to write, just don't seem to get on the blog much these days.
Also, the internet connection at the South Pole is tenuous at best...
I guess i'm making excuses.
But, still, thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed.
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