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(this post was reblogged from carpentrix)
I miss some things. The Greek salads from Royal Pizza, the poppyseed bagels from Blue Moon, and more so, the going there to go to my family’s house where my parents and brothers would be, where we’d sit on the porch and eat barbecued chicken and salad and laugh our brains out, and have those feelings of ease and wellbeing, and the feelings of discomfort, too, because who is more annoying and frustrating and devastating than the members of your family?
Also this:
Sam and I, when we played frisbee in the yard, ages eight and sixteen, respectively, tried not to hit the apple trees which only ever produced gnarled sour food for worms.
Specificity is our friend.
