Artifakts

Today I’ve been cleaning out the boxes that accompanied my move from Clovis to Savannah. That process results in so many trips down memory lane–and so many longings for someone who could place those notes, those handouts, those official forms, somewhere in the proper context of the last 7 years of my life. But seeking out that someone is like feeling, as Soul Asylum put it so eloquently, “homesick for the home I’ve never had.”

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