The grey stones echoed
The grey skies echoed
The grey interior echoed
The tears streaming down my cheeks.
20 years young, but already an old soul, riding through the rain-dampened city
Ancient cathedrals juxtaposed with street-cleaning green machines
The early morning silence broken only by the wafting voices of radiofrance.
I thought my world was ending.
The blue bay echoing
The blue skies echoing
The blue Victorians echoing
The blue duffel bag balanced across my lap.
31 years (young!), still an old soul, riding down the sun-kissed freeway
Ancient hills juxtaposed with green-driving clean machines
The mid-afternoon rush silenced only by the contemplations of a decade well-spent.
The world begins afresh
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