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Tuesday, November 13, 2012

The kind of things you remember when you're in a new place:


I never felt so safe as when my big brother, when he was in high school, would take me on night drives in his Jeep. We'd listen to music and we wouldn't talk much. The dips in the hills, the fog glowing around football field lights, the cold snap of the Tennessee autumn when he'd roll down the windows to smoke--that always said enough. The whole world happened during those drives and I remember exactly how I looked, when beyond the pine trees that would glide by in the window, I would stare into my own reflection.

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