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To them the real world meant work, bills, the start of a road leading to a mortgage, children, a suburban house and a car in the driveway. But what my real world was, I still hadn’t decided.
Don’t deny there’s something remarkable about that; we belong to a city invested in storytelling.
What happens when you spend your life creating yourself in someone else's image and that image festers overnight?
The smell in the air. The aftermath of rain.