If I were right, the night that passed before I ate that great helping of hamburger helper without the hamburger is larger than the day when my parents may or may not have given their approval towards weening hours words or dirges meant for a respective lot coddling each sodden ploy to get more play at the station
Now and then, nostalgia can become a curse. As if no one ever understands how things get old. Your socks get lost, the television loses an antenna, plans to travel to Europe in a Tour Boat still sink with that feeling everyone knows is a sign that change comes, and young is a state of mind. It would be Poetic Justice for the seasons to revolve around the plainly disgusting rate by which innovation sweeps the peaks and valleys of forward thinking trends like a tumbler refining each raw concept like a diamond picked from among a quarry.
Take a quick look at that newness and remember, it has taken over a century for this thing to be here for you to enjoy.
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