There are certain things that make me feel closer to home. And when i say closer to home, i mean closer to childhood. I’ve realized those are the things i love most. The simple sturdy affirmations that you’re still the same physical person you once were and you haven’t let the bullshit cloud you but perfect you. Listening to Chopin, that’s young I long ago, visiting my father’s show room off of Lexington, when he still worked there. One thing was constant, He always had classical music playing and many wood sample veneers stretched from wall to wall. Then you have that bit of Afro-Peruvian folk. Broken toys. Organizing events. Organizing your mind out the window. Talking while chewing your food. Feeling numb. Singing other peoples songs. Heavy bed comforters.
I am missing something but i’m sure i’ll figure that out down the line. All those fuzzy feelings are nostalgia. She really is something of great company sometimes.