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Central New York. It deserved a second look, so I came back and eyed it for awhile. Ageless, it is too stubborn to fall, despite all that it has weathered--hurt and vandalism. Through the skeletal window frames I can see inside, into the chambers, into the heart of it. Somehow, this place speaks to me. I am haunted, how can I not be? If memories are ghosts, then there are growth marks on door frames, and old stains on the rugs…countless words spoken and embedded in the rooms, a part of it until the walls crumble, the nails rust, and the glass becomes sand. It will be a long time from now, but even then, I think, I will still be haunted by you.
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