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"Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place."

Warm July nights.

Coldstone til midnight.

Mysteries. Anger.

Friends who have known you long enough to know you. Through and through.

Secrets that aren't gossip and are the only way to find answers that can't seem to find their way out of your heart or around your ideas.

Finding out what love is (or at least trying).

Fabric from the textile district, not quite sewn and mostly hanging, unfinished.